Ecstasy is All You Need
by Initial A
Summary: Collection of mature prompts originally posted on Tumblr.
1. The Devil Wears Lace

**Doing some cross-posting! All the contents are in the chapter titles.**

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Exiting the bathroom in need of assistance with his tie, Killian stopped short and found himself in desperate need of a drink. "Y-You're not wearing that, are you, love?"

Emma threw a coy look over her shoulder, pausing in her bend to pick up the dress she'd picked out for that evening. The effect was instantaneous, drawing his eye down her body, garters and those spikes for shoes she so loved and all. "Why, is there a problem?"

Oh there bloody well was a problem. He was used to this world's version of undergarments, for the most part. But the frustrating thing of it was how someone, at some point in time, had decided to make women's breast bands and loincloths so gods-be-damned _revealing_. And more frustrating was that, while Emma looked ravishing in anything and nothing at all, she had the ensnaring charm of a siren in all of them. This one was sinful, black lace shaped around her in what she might otherwise call a 'bathing suit', but she'd never (at least, he thought with a jealous twinge, she'd better not) wear something in public with the neckline plunging that deeply, or with her arse on full display, peeking out tantalizingly from under the lace. Her black hose were held up by garters, and her heels could probably kill a man-which, come to think of it, would probably be as enticing a sight to watch as the one currently before him.

He keened a little, involuntarily, when the dress went over the garment; it was a nice dress, if you liked your women to wear clothing, in her favorite red and clinging in all the right places, and under normal situations he would appreciate her figure in it. However, with his cock straining against his slacks, he wanted nothing more than to tear it off of her-quite literally, if need be-pin her to the bed, and fuck her senseless.

Emma gave him the coy look again, and bent in front of the mirror to adjust her hair. That done, she sauntered to where he stood-and he was well aware that he'd been standing shell-shocked in the same spot for almost five minutes, slack-jawed like the git that he was-and did up his tie for him, tucking it into his waistcoat and smoothing it down, her fingers lingering on his chest. She had to feel his heart racing under her touch. The self-satisfied smirk told him she did. "Behave yourself tonight," she told him, her voice sultry. "This is payback for last time."

She left the room, taking his breath with him. It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about.

 _A delicate throat-clearing brought his attention out of his book. The first thing he noticed was a confection of pink and ruffles and lace. "A bloody cupcake?" He asked._

 _The words, and the following laughter, slipped out before he could stop them, as the rest of his brain took in the lacy pink panties, the sheer pink curtains falling from the lacy pink bra, realizing too late that his barefoot goddess was attempting to seduce him. She'd stormed off before he could stop her._

He couldn't remember what the party was for, why they were all dressed up. A betrothal? A wedding? Another baby? There were a lot of drinks in his hand over the course of the night, and Killian vowed to keep his mind clear for what was in store later, but _seven hells_ watching her socialize, prancing around the room in that little dress, those heels, smiling and flipping her hair, knowing what she looked like under the seemingly innocent dress... He swallowed another mouthful of whisky, watching her laugh at something the doctor said. Her wanton eyes caught his when she touched Whale's arm. His blood roared, and he slammed the tumbler on the bar after downing the rest of it.

She met him in the middle. "I think it's time to go," Emma said, the innocence of the statement broken up by the knowing way her lips curled upwards.

"Too right," he said tightly.

Farewells were quick, and the walk to their apartment even quicker. He unzipped her dress as they went up the stairs, her heels clicking against the tiles fast and he taking them two at a time. The door was barely shut behind them before he pinned her against it, his mouth on hers, her hands clawing at his back, one leg already hooked around his waist. " _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," she whimpered when his mouth moved roughly down her neck, bear scraping red streaks down her skin.

"I bloody well intend to, you witch. Take this damned thing off."

Her dress fell to a heap on the floor around her feet. He paused for a moment to loosen the tie around his neck, and then he went right back to lavishing her breasts over the lace, enjoying her squirming and the way her hands fisted in his hair. "Fuck. Jesus _fuck_ , Killian, just- _shit_ , I need-"

Her hands fumbled at his belt, undoing his slacks enough to free his cock from its confined space. He cut the fabric covering her mound with his hook, and thrust his fingers inside her sopping heat. "Dammit, Jones, if you don't-"

The gods smiled on Killian Jones the day they invented the spiked shoes, because he didn't even need to lift her to angle himself in. He took her right against the door, one heel digging into his own arse. She keened, clinging to him. "Come on, love, come for me, show me your pretty face when I drive my cock into you."

She kissed him roughly, breaking only when he shifted, trying to hit that spot that made her fall to pieces. "That's a girl, let me hear you. Right here, me fucking you at the door, anyone could hear you, what I do to you, and you love that, don't you? You _want_ everyone to know what I do to you, want _everyone_ to know that you are _mine_ , that I only give this to _you._ "

Emma cried out, and trembled against him, her walls convulsing around him as he followed her into ecstasy moments later.

Their chests heaved, gasping for air. He untangled himself from her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She slipped out of her shoes, and stumbled over to the couch, collapsing onto it. "Worth every look Ruby's going to give me tomorrow," she said, her laugh breathy.

Killian managed to make it to the chair, his lower back on fire. "Whale? Of all the people, love..."

"Sorry," she apologized, sincerely. "I thought he might set you off the fastest..."

"Bloody right he does," he muttered darkly.

She sat up, and reached over, taking his hand in hers. "Hey. I won't do it again, alright?"

He nodded. After a moment, he turned his hand to clasp hers. "The rest of it, though... that was grand."

"You're a sucker for punishment, aren't you?" She asked dryly.

"Depends on who's doing the punishing, love," he taunted.

She leaned over the arm of the couch, their faces close. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing together. "If you don't get me out of this teddy, and I might punish you again," she murmured.

"Maybe I won't," he breathed.

She laughed, and he got up, whisking her off the couch and into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot.


	2. Durex

**Requested by anonymous, "could you write a smut fic where killian finds a box of condoms and confusedly asks emma about them which leads to her demonstrating, etc"**

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Her own place. _Finally_. No more shrieking babies, no more strays picked up, no more awkward mornings when her parents… yeah, no, not going to think about that, nope. Quiet. Quiet, quiet, quiet… "Swan?"

Dammit.

Emma dropped the clothes she'd been unpacking on the unmade new mattress. "In the bedroom!"

Killian came in the room holding a box. "Now, I know there are a lot of linguistic differences between our worlds, love, but what does 'Durex' mean?"

She froze. Then, remembering that she was almost thirty and could have a conversation about condoms like any rational adult, cleared her throat and went to take it from him. "It doesn't mean anything, I don't think. It's just the brand name, like how I buy Hershey's chocolate or Diet Coke. These are Durex condoms."

"And what exactly are 'condoms'?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Christ. She was putting off this very necessary conversation with _Henry_ , she didn't exactly want to do a warm-up with her _300-year old boyfriend_. "It's… like your sword. You keep it in a sheath to keep it from hurting other people unless you want to. Only… only it's for your…" She gestured helplessly towards his pants.

"Penis" felt too clinical, "dick" was too funny, and "cock" was a heated word for spur-of-the-moment dirty talk. What the hell was wrong with her? Killian began to chuckle. "To keep a lady from falling pregnant? We have such devices back home."

"Yeah, made from pig intestines or whatever, right?" Emma muttered.

"Something like that, love," he said, taking the few steps to close the gap between them. "Now, why might you have a box full of them?"

"Gee whiz, mister, I dunno," she said dryly, and her impression of the kid from Superman was lost on him. "I'm not exactly ready to give Henry any little brothers or sisters."

The smug smile on his face made her want to roll her eyes. "And who might the father of those little brothers or sisters be?"

"Well, your name is falling down the list."

"There's a list?" He asked, his voice teasing on the edge of curiosity and jealousy.

Emma hummed, playing with the buttons on his waistcoat. Killian looked at the box of condoms again. "I take it these aren't animal guts, then? They're not in your magic ice box."

"No they're…" she opened the box and took one of the foil packets out. "Comes in this, open it," which she did "and bam, there you go. Latex. Kind of a rubber thing. Stretchy. Thin." She checked the box. "And ribbed for her pleasure, go past me."

His eyes grew darker as he inspected it. "And it is failsafe?"

"Most of the time. Most people use it with something else, like how I'm on the pill."

His eyes met hers, and the intensity sent flames rushing down her spine. "Indeed. Seems a waste, love, to just…" he plucked the condom from her fingers, and caressed her cheek with it, "not use this."

Her throat went dry. "Um. Yeah… Yeah, it might be…"

Somehow they were walking backwards, and then they were falling onto her new bed, her clothes carelessly pushed to the floor, and Killian's hand was under her shirt and his lips were on her neck and he was mumbling something into her skin about christening a new ship. There was a brief pause to unclothe themselves, and another brief pause to take in the sight of each other's naked bodies for the first time.

Her hand trailed down his chest, his stomach muscles jumping under her feathery touches as she followed the dark trail to its end. She met his eyes, and there was a wary hesitancy about him that she rarely saw, and definitely hadn't expected in this setting. "What?" She asked, doubt creeping up her spine.

He swallowed. "Love, I don't..."

Emma frowned, just slightly, and reached for her shirt. His hand caught hers. "No. Not that, it's just. Emma, I _have_ thought about this quite a lot, many ways that I will be _quite_ glad to describe or perform in detail with you, and I want to do right by you this one time, but gods be damned I don't think I can hold myself back."

She stared at him, and started to laugh. "Killian. We have all the time in the world for slow. I think, by now, we've waited long enough, don't you?"

He was on top of her in an instant, claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss. His tongue was rough on hers, his hand squeezing her breast, fingers circling and rolling her nipple between them. Emma arched her back into him, encouraging him further, but his hand slipped down her stomach to settle between her legs, sliding along her folds and teasing her nerves. "Love," he said between kisses, "love, I'm not going to last much longer. Get the bloody sheath on."

"It's not bloody," she retorted. "It's not made of animal guts."

Killian nibbled the bottom of her lip in response. She briefly forgot which way was up and which was down, until he kissed her along her jawline and down the line of her pulse. She reached for the condom and remembered an old trick. "Get up," Emma ordered.

He obliged, sitting back on his heels. Emma showed him the condom, making sure his eyes followed her movements as she placed it just inside her mouth, resting against her teeth. She leaned forward slowly, grasping his length, and placed her mouth over the tip. Gently, she took him into her mouth, rolling the condom down his cock as she went; his hand was fisted in her hair, strangled noises coming from him as he forgot how to breathe. She squeezed her lips together over his shaft, running up and down his length a few times to make sure the air was out-and all right, also to squeeze those delicious noises out of his mouth.

He pulled her off of him roughly, still gripping her hair like a lifeline, and crushed their lips together. She eased back, taking him with her; she liked the feeling of his hand on her too much to make him move, so she took over positioning his cock at her entrance, and he slid home easily. _Fuck_ , he fit her so _fucking_ well. He filled her completely, each thrust ramming his cock against the spot that shot off fireworks in her mind.

It was hard, fast, and by the time they were shouting names (him) and obscenities (her), Killian's well-scarred body would be adding new souvenirs on his back, and she wasn't going to be able to wear her hair up for a week or more.

He collapsed against her, and his weight was soothing on top of her. She cradled his head against her chest, his warm breath puffing against her breasts. "Amazing," he murmured after a time.

"Thank you," she said, oddly touched.

"Well, you as well, but mostly I was talking about the device-" he broke off laughing when she smacked his shoulder lightly.

He propped himself up on his elbow, and kissed her well. "Slow, next time," he promised.

"Next time," she agreed.


	3. Heat of the Day

**Anonymous requested "Could I request a captain swan smut prompt, where killian comes home to emma in nothing but one of his modern-day shirts, and smut ensues?"**

 **I tweaked some things and added others.**

* * *

Killian rolled his head on his neck as he ascended the stairs; the little prince was becoming quite rambunctious—though being the son of the bandit Snow White and the uncle of Henry (who, much to his mother's displeasure, was already angling for a motorcycle for his 18th birthday in a few years) it was to be expected—and Killian wasn't quite used to being used as a jungle gym yet. It was also rather a hot day, and like all children, Neal wasn't nearly as susceptible to such trivial things as heat as his elders were.

There was faint singing coming from the other side of the door to the apartment he and Emma shared, and he paused before opening it to listen.

Even after several years together, living together or not, Emma was secretive about some of her habits. And that was fine. He had his life outside of theirs together, she should have hers. But some little moments, like her secret love of song or his occasional dalliance with a pipe, slipped through the cracks of their separate lives to the one they shared. And like any siren, her songs could bring him to the brink.

The tune was soft, and he smiled when he realized what she must be doing. He knocked once to announce his presence, opened the door, and halted, slowly closing it behind him.

The apartment they shared with Henry was warm, every window thrown open and fans blowing to stir a breeze. And Emma, fresh from her morning at the station, chose to deal with this heat by stripping down to nothing but one of his modern shirts, the sleeves rolled up several times over her elbows. Even with his warning, she started a bit at his presence. "You're back early," she said.

"Aye, the little prince tuckered himself into a nap. Your mother promises to call me over more often to wear him out," Killian said, coming over to wrap his arms around her.

Emma chuckled when he moved to do so from behind her. "It wouldn't hurt for a full-frontal hug every now and then, Jones."

"Aye, but how am I supposed to comfortably hold my two favorite girls when one of them is squashed between us?" He asked, resting his chin on her shoulder and his hands across the swell of Emma's stomach.

Emma leaned her head back against him, running her hands up and down his biceps. "We don't know it's a girl, Killian," she said wearily; it was an old argument.

" _I_ know," he told her, kissing her temple. "Pirate's instinct. We are having a daughter."

"Yeah, that same pirate's instinct that can't figure out the GPS—"

"Bloody devil machine that is—"

She opened her mouth to argue further, but he caught her up in a kiss, turning her body to mold against his. He attempted to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back, mumbling, "Seriously?"

"Can't keep my hand off you, love."

"You just like me barefoot and pregnant."

There was a certain allure to it, for sure, but not in the way she took it. She had a faint glow about her normally, one that she teased him for mentioning but he was quite sure was some manifestation of her magic. She was luminescent now, like the fullest moon, guiding his way through the blackest nights. He was more drawn to her than a moth to a flame than ever before. He took every opportunity to remind her how he cared for her, loved her, and when one of her brooding mother moods hit, found her magnificent.

Now was not one of those moods, but he hoped that every instance he showed her his feelings she kept tucked away for those unhappy days.

Now, like all those times before, he loved to lay her out on their bed, her hair streaming around her like a river of gold. He unbuttoned the shirt easily, kissing and nipping his way down her neck, soothing her breasts with his tongue, gently lapping, swirling, teasing each to a taught peak. He kissed the peak of her belly before disappearing from her view, parting her nether lips with his fingers and delving between her folds with his tongue. He teased and caressed the bundle of nerves that made her squirm and curse his name, his fingers prodding her entrance and sliding in and out with ease.

When she came, the luminescence surrounding her intensified; Killian was certain it was tied to her magic, perhaps the magic their child also carried. She smiled drowsily at him when he moved up the mattress to join her, holding her fast against him. She was often too tired, and he too concerned despite advice to the contrary, to reciprocate the pleasure he gave her, but it didn't matter.

He would always put Emma's happiness before his, now, tomorrow, next month, five/ten/fifty years from now. Her happiness brought him more joy than he could ever have imagined; and perhaps that was what truly defined true love above all.


	4. High School AU

**Anonymous requested: cs high school au- flirty/badboy!killian and feisty!emma, lots of sexual tension has built up over time and they end up sleeping together at a friend's party?**

 **First person POV: Emma**

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The thing no one tells you about small towns is that the dating options are slim. Oh, and you can't get away with anything because everyone knows you and your parents. And your parents know you did something even before you thought about doing it.

I mean, it doesn't help when your mom is a teacher and your dad is the sheriff—seriously, who the hell thought that having a cop for a dad came with all sorts of perks? That's another lie they tell you on TV. Like hell would my dad ever give me the mythological "get out of jail free card".

So yeah, it's not like any boys will be banging down my door to take me out with Sheriff Nolan answering the door, but it kind of really sucks that I've known everyone my age since we were in diapers. That doesn't exactly lead to romantic notions, if you know what I mean.

Oh they've tried. Neal Gold was my first kiss back in junior high, when we were pretty sure we were the last two people on planet Earth to not have had our first kisses. This somehow led him to think I had a major thing for him (I didn't) and he took me out a few times (hey, my allowance is limited and Granny Lucas grills a mean BLT) but it ran its course pretty quickly. Especially when I didn't let Neal feel me up (whatever, his hands were clammy)

I just want you to keep all of this in mind, so you can appreciate what happened next.

My senior year of high school started as normally as ever. Mom dropped me and my younger brother Leo—he was starting his freshman year, I'd already promised to shove him into his locker—off on her way to the elementary school with our little sister Ruth; I said hi to everyone I'd seen every day since forever, and went to my homeroom. Ruby and I talked while we waited for the bell to ring—it's not like we had any homework to finish, and there would be a slew of announcements and forms to pass out and have our parents fill in. Ruby was ranting about some new rule Granny had imposed on her about her hair (Ruby changed her hair about as often as I changed my socks) when someone I had never seen before walked into the room and sat down at an empty desk.

Remember, I'd known everyone here since I was born. It's not like Storybrooke, Maine was a hopping metropolis of culture, so we didn't really get new families moving into town. If anything, we had families leaving town, like how Neal and his dad had moved to Phoenix last year. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time we'd ever had a new kid, if we ever had at all. New kids were kind of a concept I'd thought were also made up by TV shows, like police dads who let their kids get away with underage drinking or small New England towns being quaint and full of quirky and endearing individuals.

So yeah, I was staring a little.

Okay, a lot. Whoever this guy was, he was hot. His hair looked like it had been styled at one point that morning, but he'd gotten frustrated and ran his fingers through it a few times, sticking out at odd angles. He even made our dorky uniforms look good: his button-up untucked and hanging out below his sweater, said sweater pushed up over some astoundingly fantastic forearms, and his tie carelessly knotted. He sat at that slouch that read "I am very cool and intimidating, do not approach but also you should try to approach because I am just that cool and intimidating".

Ruby noticed I wasn't paying full attention to her hair story, and followed my gaze. "Oh, my God," she breathed.

"Don't let Vicky hear you," I mumbled.

"Don't call him Vicky."

August, or Mr. Booth as I was supposed to call him during school (he was like a big brother to me, it was just weird when he was my homeroom and English teacher) came in just then and called us to order. The identity of the new kid was revealed very quickly thanks to the invention of alphabetical order: Killian Jones. Killian didn't look up or around at any of us while roll was called, or while any of the boring, first-day-of-school paperwork was taken care of. In fact, he hardly budged at all until Aug—Mr. Booth said, "We've got a new student with us this year. Mr. Jones, care to come up here and introduce yourself a little?"

For a full minute, it didn't look like he would care, but Mr. Booth's patience against stubborn students is legendary. Killian finally got up and shuffled to the front of the room. I heard Ruby gasp when he spoke, and I fully understood why: he was English. Like, real English. "Name's Killian Jones, I'm not exactly here by any choice of mine, and if anyone knows a decent way to gain a smoke or a shag around here, you know where to find me."

I swear, Mr. Booth was about to write him up on the spot, and I think that might have been kind of a new disciplinary record, but before he could say anything the bell rang for first period. Ruby grabbed my arm as we went to meet our friend Alex Boyd for World Civ with Grace Milliner, another family friend who I forgot to call her by name properly. "Holy shit."

"Should I write Victor a letter of condolences?" I teased.

"I mean…"

I laughed, and Ruby threw a surreptitious look over her shoulder. "He's looking!" She hissed.

"What?" I twisted my head around, and saw what she meant: Killian was definitely watching us from where he stood in the door, his books in hand. When our eyes met, this little smirk appeared, and he walked down the hall in the other direction.

Ruby smacked me. "Dummy, you're not supposed to actually look."

I rolled my eyes. "How am I supposed to know that?"

"What are we talking about?" Alex asked as we got to Miss Milliner's room.

* * *

I didn't see Killian again until lunch; it was a nice day so upperclassmen were allowed to sit outside. Ruby, Alex and I had commandeered a picnic table for ourselves. "Should the sheriff's daughter be showing blatant disregard for rules by perching atop the table, Swan?" His lilting voice carried as he sauntered over to us—and I say sauntered, because there aren't any better words for the way he walked.

Alex, who had yet to actually see the boy Ruby had not shut up about since first period, sucked in a breath and slapped her hand on mine. "You pick up quick," I said about his comment on my dad.

"News travels fast in these parts. All I had to do was ask around who the fair and fit Swan in my homeroom was and I had more information than I knew what to do with," he grinned, and slid in next to Ruby, across from Alex and me. "Speaking of, I've learned the girl with the bloodred hair works at the local eating establishment, mostly against her will and also rebels by changing said hair as often as humanly possible, and you, love, I have yet to be acquainted with."

"Alex," she said, a little breathlessly. "Alex Boyd."

"Killian Jones. Charmed," Killian slipped her hand into his and kissed the back of it. I think Alex's head almost exploded.

I took a bite out of my sandwich. "So, Swan, any particular plans this evening?" Killian asked, turning those blue eyes on me.

"They don't concern you, and why do you keep calling me Swan?" I asked, mildly irritated.

He gestured to the necklace I always wore, a swan-shaped pendant that my parents had given me on my fifteenth birthday. My hand automatically went to it. He grinned, reaching into his pocket. "Swan suits you much better than anything else, darling."

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. My attraction to him dropped a few notches, and Alex's eyes were wide as he lit it. "Are you kidding me?" She hissed. "Sister Rose will actually murder you for that, and nuns can get away with that kind of thing!"

Killian took a long drag, and was considerate enough to puff away from us. It might have been a disgusting habit, but he did look kind of good doing it, which wasn't a confusing or conflicting thought to have or anything. He winked at Alex, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. "Sweetheart, I've been in a lot worse situations than being scolded by a nun. I'm touched that you care, though."

It turned out that in addition to being a relentless flirt, he was a pickpocket too, because I hardly blinked and before I knew it he'd reached across the table and my phone was in his hand. "Oh, tut, you village lot and your absolute trust in one another. Not even password protected?"

I made a grab for it, and he pulled away from my reach, grinning as he stuck the cigarette between his teeth. There was some furious typing for a moment, and then he slid it across the table to me. "Give us a bell sometime, love," he said, winking.

The wink sent a surge of heat through me; what the hell was this guy doing to me? He got up and sauntered away, taking another drag from the cigarette as he went, and I picked up my phone. My eyes widened, and the surge of heat turned into a surge of irritation. Ruby, looking over my shoulder, started to laugh, and Alex asked, "What? What did he do?" a few times before I showed her. Killian had given me his number, but in lieu of his name, he'd put "Fucktoy".

* * *

I decided to swing by Granny's after practice; mostly to bother Ruby but also because Mom was kind of a terrible cook and Dad was working, so unless I wanted to starve, it was my job to grab dinner. I didn't see Ruby, but that didn't mean much. She was probably in the back. I slid into my usual spot at the counter, and looked over the menu; kind of a pointless exercise, since I've been coming here since birth, but maybe someday I'll surprise myself and not get the same thing every time. I didn't even notice someone sitting next to me until a by-now-familiar British lilt said, "You do all that bloody running for fun?"

"Some of us aren't giving ourselves lung cancer before we're twenty," I said, not giving him the satisfaction of looking at him, "And you appear to be stalking me."

"Not stalking, love," Killian said, plucking the menu from my fingers to get me to glare at him, "just getting to know the layout of the town. We just happen to appear in similar places. And we all have bodily autonomy, don't we? I can ruin my lungs, you can wear out your tendons, though I can think of other, more enjoyable ways to do that."

I chose to ignore the last part. "Right, so following me for cross country practice isn't stalking."

"Oh, I love a lass with bite," he drawled. I actually kind of hated him for how good he looked with that shit-eating grin while he was aggravating me so much. "No, darling, as much as it pains me to admit you are not yet the center of my universe, you just happen to run all over the bleeding earth, I happened to spot you in various locations, and Bob's your uncle."

I rolled my eyes. Luckily for me, Granny came up to me and confirmed what she already knew I wanted to eat; she also gave Killian a critical once-over. Granny was a terrifying old lady that I never wanted to get on the bad side of and hoped to be like one day. If Killian were up to something, she'd put a stop to it immediately. "And just who are you?" She asked.

Killian appraised her in response. "No one important. Just gusting through on a breeze, love."

"That doesn't answer my question," Granny said gruffly. I smiled; it was always fun to hear someone else besides Ruby or me get scolded by her. "You're new around these parts, so I'll take pity on you for a moment: this is my kitchen, and if you want a decent meal, you'll mind your tongue. Cause any trouble and you're out on your ear without so much as a how-do."

Killian glanced over at me. "Is there something in the water here, or do you lot just breed crotchety women like rabbits?"

I smacked him on the arm; I thought about smacking Granny too when I saw a ghost of a smirk. "We Yanks have bite too. Emma, I'll have your dinner ready soon."

When she was gone, he turned in his seat to give me his full attention again. "Now, Swan, I must admit that I am actually broken to pieces that you have yet to ring me up."

I gave him an incredulous look. "Okay, first of all, I've had your number for six hours—"

"About five and three-quarters more than most girls before they ring me—"

"And second of all," I continued loudly over him, "what on Earth gave you the idea that I would 'ring you'?"

He grinned at me again. "Well, to be absolutely honest, darling, I was hoping you'd do a bit more to me than ring—"

"Oh, my God," I cried, throwing my hands up. "You're insufferable!"

"I prefer ornery scoundrel, but whatever makes your proverbial boat float, Swan."

"I'm ignoring you. You are being ignored," I told him, and took out my phone.

I managed to clear five levels of Candy Crush—Dad was beating me again and I needed to reclaim my place in first—while Killian slowly came to realize that I wasn't playing around. I endured a full fifteen minutes of "Swan" and "Oh sodding hell" and variations thereupon before Granny reappeared with my bag of takeout. We had an arrangement (as in, Dad would stop in before he came home to pay her), so I merely said my thanks before hopping off my stool and heading out the door with it. However, I had picked up a rather annoying shadow. "Come off it, Swan, I was only playing."

I whirled, jabbing my finger into his chest. "You are an annoying little dweeb, and I'll thank you to get the hell out of my sight before I deck you."

Killian looked taken aback. "A _dweeb_? Did you really just call _me_ a _dweeb_?"

"Yeah, I did."

"I don't think anyone has called me a dweeb since primary school, if at all."

"Congratulations, your first American insult. Now go away before I have to bruise my knuckles."

He looked at me with perplexed amusement before giving me a small salute. "As you wish, Swan."

I watched him go, telling myself it was to make sure he actually was leaving. I'm not a very good liar though, even to myself.

* * *

Little did I know at the time that this would become the pattern of my life over the next few weeks. I never did call him, or even text, but he somehow found his way into my life anyway. Killian had that brand of endearing annoyance down to an art; he was mostly harmless—the number of afternoon detentions and in-school suspensions for smoking on school grounds, or when he'd forget to shave, or the time Dad hauled him in for underage and public drinking after he passed out in the park aside—and more or less existed to tease me. If we were younger, I'd expect him to be pulling my pigtails. I only had to punch him once, fairly early into our acquaintance, for him to understand that when I said back off, I meant it. I did feel a bit bad about the bruise on his jaw after, but when I apologized, he brushed me off, saying I was fully in the right and he'd been "a clot". Some days I needed a translator for him.

But that was it. He annoyed me, I tried to give as good as I got; I was secretly warm for his form, he was obviously warm for mine, but I'd set the boundaries.

Then I fell.

The district cross country meet was always packed, and I'd been running the course for years so I should have been fine. But it had rained a lot that week, and the course was muddy. I wasn't the only one to fall, and I wasn't even the worst off because I had only a sprain and nothing broken. But I was still benched, probably for the rest of the season, and there went any chances of getting scouted.

I didn't really need the crutches, but Mom insisted I use them for one day to see how I felt, and then we'd decide how the rest of the week would go. I kept my head down as we went into the school; it was mortifying. Leo carried my bag for me to homeroom. I embarrassed him in return by ruffling his hair in thanks; he glared at me, his ears red, and bolted from the room. I sank into my seat as Killian came into the room; our eyes met, and I was a little surprised to see the concern on his face. But when he made a move to come over, the bell rang, and Ruby skidded into the room just ahead of Mr. Booth, and we were all treated to a lecture on timeliness while attendance was taken.

Ruby carried my bag for me, even though I was perfectly capable of balancing between four legs with a backpack, but no one was listening to me. "Swan," Killian murmured, catching my arm as we headed out the door.

"Jones."

"What's all this then?"

"It's nothing, really. Fell on Saturday."

His eyes caught mine again, and I was kind of touched by the little worry-line between his eyebrows. Then the warning bell rang, and he cursed, and I had to practically sprint to catch up with Ruby for World Civ.

* * *

I didn't see him at lunch, which felt weird, because normally he came and bothered us for a few minutes before ducking out behind the dumpsters. In fact, I didn't see him around the halls at all for the rest of the day.

Going home right after school felt weird, but Coach had mandated I take a week off and I could try walking our route next week. Dad was out, and I knew Mom and Ruth had Brownies later, and who knew where Leo got to after school, so imagine my surprise to see a small box sitting on my front porch. There was a note with surprisingly neat penmanship:

 _Hope you like chocolate, Swan._

There was a cupcake in the box, chocolate with white frosting, and a little chocolate swan sitting at the peak.

I needed to sit down. The porch swing swayed gently under me as I stared at the cupcake. This was… I didn't know what it was. It was a cupcake, sure, but a secret get-well cupcake? A ditch-school cupcake? I pulled out my phone and did the one thing I never thought I'd do: I hit the little call button next to "Fucktoy".

It went to voicemail after a few rings, and not even a personalized one, just one of those _"YOU HAVE REACHED THE VOICE MAIL BOX OF {number}"_ ones. I realized that even though I had his number, he'd never gotten mine, so of course he wouldn't pick up a strange Maine number. So I sent a text instead.

 _Did you seriously skip school to buy me a cupcake?_

I didn't expect any response, but the three dots appeared almost instantly.

 ** _She finally graces me with her presence. And yes, I did._**

I started to reply, but my screen was overwhelmed by the word "Fucktoy" and vibrating. I didn't even get time to answer, he just rambled on, "So are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

"I told you, it was nothing. The course was muddy, and I slipped. It's a sprain."

"Bloody hell, Swan. See, this is what I was talking about, why you shouldn't be running around for no good reason. You get hurt."

I snorted. "It's nothing permanent."

He made a noise of disbelief. I rolled my eyes. "Look, get your ass over here and I'll prove it to you."

For once in all the time I'd known him, Killian Jones didn't say anything. In fact, the line was so quiet that I thought the call had dropped. "Hello?"

"Still here, love," he said, a little quieter, and an edge had come off of his accent.

"I didn't ask you to the prom, Jones," I said. My heart was racing for some reason. "I asked you to come over to my house. Well, demanded."

"I'll be there in a tick."

* * *

We sat on the porch for a long time. It was very innocent, sitting on the porch swing, talking. I even managed to get upstairs and change out of my uniform skirt into shorts before he got there. The most risqué thing that happened was when I slung my leg up on his lap to show off the bruising from my sprain. "That," he informed me, "is grotesque."

"It's colorful," I corrected.

He lightly pinched my big toe and lifted my foot up to move it off of him. I yelped. "It's painful," he teased, setting me down gently.

I smacked him on the shoulder. He grabbed my hand before I could pull away, and kissed the back of it, sending a shock down my arm as his stubble scraped my skin slightly. He hovered over me for a moment, those crazy-blue eyes twinkling, his grin widening, and then he winked. I felt very warm all of a sudden. "As much as it pains me to leave your side, love, I am expected at home," he murmured.

"Far be it from me to keep anyone waiting for you," I managed.

He chuckled, and the sound definitely did not make me feel any less warm.

* * *

Homecoming was another idea I was sure was an invention of television. I mean, we had it, and there was a homecoming queen, but there wasn't a dance. No, we had our semi-formal around Valentine's Day, and then the formal prom in the spring.

The homecoming game was late that year, after my birthday. Let me tell you, late October is not a fun night to stand around outside, in the rain, waiting for one of your friends to get a plastic-and-rhinestone crown and some bragging rights. I was there to show equal support for both Alex and Ruby, who were both in the running, but also because Ruby was my ride to the party at Victor's house after the game.

Yeah, we didn't have a homecoming dance, we were just forced to find someone's house to have a party at. And Victor's parents worked crazy shifts at the hospital, so the huge house would be empty for the night. Well… we hoped to rectify that, anyway.

Though I'd been warned that the SPD would be out in full force to check on any and all homecoming parties. I wasn't expecting anything too wild.

Alex won, and she cried, she was so happy. Ruby still had her Homecoming Princess tiara, so she wasn't exactly bummed about losing. The court were required to stay for the whole game, so I alternated doing snack stand runs and walking laps around the track to keep myself from going crazy with boredom.

It didn't help my mood that the state cross country meet was next weekend, and I hadn't been able to qualify. I was kind of really angry with myself for it. I hadn't done so hot at state the previous year, and this would have been my last chance to redeem it.

I was so preoccupied that I ran straight into someone, umbrella and all. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry—"

"Swan, easy," Killian's lilt said as his hands steadied me. "I didn't know you had such school spirit."

"Same could be said of you," I told him. "I'm at least here because of Alex and Ruby."

He just shrugged. "I was told I could find myself at a party if I came so… here I am."

I smiled. "The seniors' party is at Victor's place."

Killian smirked, and it warded off the damp chill. "Perhaps I'll see you there, then, love."

* * *

Victor's was loud. Not the music, because he knew my dad would be there in a hot minute, but everyone talking and laughing over each other. The football team was in the running for the league title, the cross country team was going to state, and the swimming team was poised to win most of the meets this year. Everyone was happy. It was a little overwhelming. At one point I found myself at the top of the stairs, overlooking the foyer, just to get some air and away from the crowd.

Killian found me there.

We didn't say anything for a while. He had a flask; I knew there were others around the room below. He offered it to me at one point, and I think I was so angry with myself about being benched for my final season that I took him up on it and took a swallow—and promptly sprayed it right back out. "What the fuck _is_ that?" I demanded, coughing and pulling a face.

Killian was laughing so hard I thought _he_ might sprain something next. "Oh, God, your face…" he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. "It's _rum_ , darling, it's supposed to taste like that."

I made another face, and he started to laugh again. "I'll pass, thanks."

Every few minutes he would start to chuckle again, and when the aftertaste of the rum wore off, I started to laugh with him. I don't know if you've ever had one of those moments where something isn't really that funny, but because you're with someone or the moment involves someone it becomes the funniest thing in the world; but Killian and I shared a moment like that, both of us having to sit on the floor for fear our legs couldn't hold us up any longer from the lack of oxygen.

I found myself next to him, my head resting on his shoulder as the last of the giggles escaped both of us. His arm moved up around my shoulder. It felt nice. Warm. And then I was looking up at him, and his impossibly blue eyes were looking at me like they could see every secret I could ever have; and then I was pulling on his shirt collar, his lips were on mine, and my hand was in his hair, and _holy fuck_ was he a fantastic kisser. Nibbling my lips, just the right amount of tongue, and the _sounds_ he made, from deep moans to breathy whimpers.

A loud conversation moved up on the stairs, and we sprang apart, fighting for breath. "I will commit murder tonight," Killian muttered darkly.

"Spare room," I said suddenly.

"What?"

"There are about fifteen spare rooms in this house. You and me, one of them, now."

I felt emboldened. I knew what I wanted. I didn't care I hadn't done it before, or that there wasn't going to be moonlight or satin sheets or rose petals or whatever. I stood up, dragging Killian along behind me, and ducked into the first room I knew would be clean. Killian stood in the middle of the room when I closed the door, and scratched behind his ear, a nervous tic of his. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Swan, I… may not have given the correct impression…"

I frowned, trying to think what he was talking about, and then it hit like lightning. I wanted to laugh, I really did, but for both of our sake I kept it in. "You've never done this before," I stated.

"No," his voice was hoarse.

I reached out, and took his hand. "Me neither."

There was the matter of safety, but I knew where Victor kept his stash, and left Killian alone briefly to raid it for a condom and lube. He was sitting awkwardly on the bed when I returned, and practically sprang to his feet in relief, like he'd been worried I wasn't coming back. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, Jones."

His grin was sincere, and I think that's what made it easiest to take that first step and kiss him again. It was gentle, and his hands caressed my hair, the side of my face, sliding down my body to rest on my hips and pull me in closer to him. I felt him hard against me; it was kind of a thrill to realize _I'd_ done that. My hands slid under his shirt. His skin was soft over hard muscle; I hadn't realized how fit he was before now, but the realization seeped in as his arms slid around me, those biceps squeezing ever so slightly as he suddenly lifted me up and tossed me back onto the bed. My shirt came up, and I lifted myself up a bit to help him get it off; his other hand was snaking behind my back to unhook my bra. Both garments were unceremoniously tossed across the room. His shirt came next, and I realized he was kind of hypnotized staring at my chest. "What?" I asked, feeling a little panicked, like maybe I had some weird growth or whatever.

"You're… stunning, Emma," was all he said.

That was the first time he'd said my name.

My heart was racing as he leaned over me, softly kissing his way down my neck, my shoulders, collarbone, and finally my chest. And then I couldn't breathe, because his lips were on me, and there was flame and starlight bursting inside as he swirled his tongue around one breast, then the other, sucking and pulling me taut. Discovering myself and what I liked had been _nothing_ like this, or you'd never get me out of my room again.

My legs seemed to be squeezing together by themselves, trying to get to that peak, stoking the flames within; I needed something, any kind of relief. "Killian," I gasped. "Killian, please, down further, I need…"

His eyes met mine as he sucked one nipple particularly hard and I threw my head back, stuffing my arm in my mouth to keep the whole house from hearing me. He let me go with a wet popping, and made quick work of my jeans. "Tell me how you like it, love," he requested, kneeling before me.

"Start slow," I said. "Rub gently along the sides of the clit, two fingers, one on each side, and build up from there."

He was a fast learner, and the different angle of his fingers had my back practically bowing off the bed. He was kissing my thighs, my hipbones, and when his fingers stopped I wanted to kick him—until he used them to part me further and were replaced by his tongue. I had to grab a pillow to stifle the noise: _how_ was he a virgin, how was it _this good_ , how did anyone else do _anything_ with their lives when they could be eaten out like this… and then his tongue was inside me, and I couldn't keep it together any longer. He held on to my hips and tongue-fucked me through my orgasm, my legs around his head to keep him there.

When I finally, _finally_ , stilled, he came up to kiss me. He was covered in me, and I laughed, licking my own essence from his lips. "You sure you never did this before?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

"I'm a very good student," he said. He kissed me again. "I like the sound of my name when you come."

I smiled, and shoved him back onto the pillows. "Your turn."

I slid his jeans off, where they joined mine. I wasn't particularly educated in penile size or shape, but he wasn't small, and he was definitely European. "You're gonna have to help me out here," I said.

Killian chuckled. "Best like this, love," he took my hand and placed it on him, my fingers ringing the base of the tip. "There's a girl, now squeeze just a little…" he sucked in a breath, "like that… pull the skin up over the… Oh God, Emma…"

He wasn't the only quick learner. His hands fisted in the quilt, and there was a delicious kind of thrill from watching his face contort like that, his breathing erratic, just from my ministrations to his cock. I smiled, wondering… fair was fair, after all. I leaned down, and took him fully into my mouth, and he thrust up so hard he almost hit the back of my throat. " _Fuck_ , Emma!"

"That's what I'm trying to do," I teased, my spit making the handy easier, "but someone isn't behaving."

I took him into my mouth again, bobbing my head up and down, trying to do with my lips what I'd done with my hand and his foreskin. "Emma," he rasped. "Emma, love, off, off now or I'm not gonna last much longer."

I made a mental note to come back to that another time, and got off him, grabbing the condom and the lube and making quick work of both. He was wrecked, breathing heavily, sweat shining on his skin. "How do you want to do this, love?" He asked.

"I've read it's… not as bad for a girl, the first time, on top," I said.

He smirked half-heartedly. "Hop on then, darling."

I shoved my nerves aside, and positioned him, and sank slowly on top of him. Killian was breathing hard again, his head thrown back. I grit my teeth a little; it was a bit uncomfortable, but not as bad as everyone made it out to be. Just… not something my body was used to. "You still there?" I asked softly when he was fully inside.

He nodded, apparently unable to speak. I waited a few moments, letting my body adjust. I kissed his chest while I did so, and his hand came up to run through my hair.

I began to move slowly; Killian's breaths came out harsh. I braced myself against his chest, and his hips thrust to meet mine. As I went faster, I was honestly surprised he was still with me, but when I said something, he bit out, "Waiting on you, love. Gentleman and all."

"I don't think I can."

"Bollocks," was his only retort before he sat up fully , his head buried in my chest and sucking on my breasts again.

It was easier to fuck him this way, I found; and damn if the warmth in my belly didn't kindle up again thanks to the— _oh, fuck_ —way he was leaving hickeys all over my chest. And then one of his hands was cupping my ass, helping me bounce on him, and the other went to my clit, and I could only whimper into his shoulder, "Coming, coming, oh _, fuck_ , Killian," and he was whispering, "Emma, Emma, Emma" and my orgasm hit hard just as he stilled under me, my thrusts of pleasure extending his.

I don't remember much after that. I recall Killian slipping out to a bathroom, and the sound that came in told us that there was a good chance no one had heard us, and then he was back, and I had put on my shirt and panties and that was it.

The next thing I remember was my dad calling my cell phone at four in the morning, and having to explain why I hadn't let him know where I was.

It was a good thing Killian didn't snore.


	5. Slow and Steady

**Anonymous requested a sequel to chapter 2, where their next time is slow.**

 **Swapping between POVs because why not.**

* * *

An elephant sat on her shoulders, or the tension of her day had become that strenuous—at this point, Emma would take either explanation. At least the elephant might have knocked her out of her misery.

When she entered Granny's, he was at her side in an instant. "You've got your murder face on, love," Killian told her, placing his hand at her waist and guiding her to the booth where her family sat.

"I don't have a murder face," Emma protested.

"Well, I haven't _seen_ you murder anyone unfortunate enough to cross your path when you're in this state, but I fancy you'd look something like you do now," he explained.

"You've never seen me murder anyone. I've never murdered anyone!"

"Aye, and while it might be a thrilling sight to behold, you'd still wear that face."

"Look," she turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest to stop him, "before we get over there and get too comfortable, I'm calling in that promise of next time. Tonight. As soon as it can be managed."

Her voice dropped as she spoke, and he looked bewildered for a moment, before the light bulb clicked on. There was the devilish grin, the one that promised everything and none of it family-safe. "Oh are you now?"

Emma glanced around the packed room quickly, heat rising in her cheeks. "Everyone in this diner knows that look on your face, Killian," she hissed.

He leaned close, and pecked her on the cheek. "Don't know what you're talking about, love."

" _If I have murder face, you have sex face!_ "

He merely smiled, and led her to their table.

* * *

After enduring the most excruciating hour of pleasantries with the royals, and Henry was safely ensconced with the queen, Emma drove them back to her new home. The fact that he spent more time there than in his room at the inn was not something lost on him, but he was waiting for her to bring up any thought of making it official. Small steps with his Swan.

She rounded on him again as soon as they were in the door, her hands clutching his lapels like a lifeline as she crushed his lips against hers. His hand automatically went into her hair—he never tired of the feel of her silky tresses against him—and he enjoyed the frantic need she had of him until the back of his mind reminded him of his promise to her. He pulled back with more than a bit of regret. "Much as I am loathe to stop you, love, I believe slow was the promise," he murmured.

Emma huffed. He grinned. He sent her to undress in the bedroom, telling her he'd call for her when he was ready. She arched an eyebrow at that, but did as she was bid.

When he heard the door close, Killian went to the bathroom and filled the clawfoot tub. There were potions that made the water frothy and smell nice—if a tad overpowering to his nose, but Emma seemed to like them on the rare occasion when she could take a long bath.

He shucked off his jacket after turning the tap off, and draped it over the hanger on the back of the door; his waistcoat and shirt joined it. Shoes and socks were discarded on his way to claim his lady love from her room.

* * *

There was a knock at the door. Emma smiled: ever the gentleman. She opened it to reveal him leaning against the wall, dressed only in his jeans. Her eyes widened, despite herself—and she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. His eyes raked over her hungrily; they were dark when they met hers. "Your pampering awaits, milady."

He led her down the hall; the sound of the tap running had been enough to ease the tension in her muscles, and now the added scent of her bath oils and soaps sent soothing waves of calm down her back. "What, no candles?" She asked, throwing a look over her shoulder at him.

He smiled ruefully. "Apologies, love, I didn't have any matches."

"Geez," Emma demurred, one hand going to the waistband of his jeans, "I gotta do everything around here."

She flicked her wrist, and the candle flames sprang to life. His lips captured hers in a slow, gentle caress. She worked the zipper loose on his jeans, and slid her hands across the skin of his hips. "Can't have you joining me like this," she murmured against him.

"Water's getting cold, love."

She stepped away, giving him room to strip—one of these days she was going to have to introduce him to the concept of a strip tease. She had a feeling he would not only be open to the idea, but completely _revel_ in performing one—and stepped into the tub. She sank into the soapy water with a happy sigh. "Okay, I'm good," she said, tilting her head back. "Thank you, you've done enough."

He snorted. "Budge up, darling, the fun hasn't even started yet."

"Says you."

She did move up a little, allowing him to slide in behind her. She rested against him, his half-hard cock pressing into her back. "Aye, says me, and you'll agree with me shortly," he murmured, kissing her ear and biting the lobe before moving down.

Emma keened as his lips moved up and down her neck. His fingers drew shapes lightly across her stomach, dipping down to tease the peak of her mound but never entering her folds. Eventually his hand came up to her shoulders. He nudged her forward, and she drew a shaky breath when he began kneading the knots out of her muscles. "Oh, _fuck_..."

Killian chuckled. "So impatient. All in due time, Swan."

For a guy with one hand, he made a fantastic masseuse; he seemed to know exactly where all of her stress centered, leaving nothing but pure bliss in his wake. Emma was certain she'd never moaned as loudly during sex as she did now, and every decibel was justly earned. When he was done, his arm came around her and pulled her against him, just sitting together and enjoying the feel of being together.

"Killian?" Emma murmured after a while.

"Mmm?" His soft voice was in her ear, his cheek resting against her head.

She didn't want to open her eyes, and ruin the moment, stop existing in this perfect bubble of _being_... but... "The water's getting cold."

"Then by all means, we should continue our evening elsewhere," he whispered sensually.

She shivered; from the chill or the effect his words had on her, she wasn't certain. She opened the drain while he got out first to dry off; she took over for him, drying him off slowly. She knelt to get his legs, and his cock was standing at attention at her eye level. She glanced up at him with a smirk. "Swan..." Killian raised an eyebrow. "You know you don't have to-" he broke off with a cry as she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip before pulling him in as deep as he would go.

She'd been gifted with a relatively low gag reflex, and as a result Emma idly wondered if she'd need to have the countertop redone. She swore she heard his knuckles crack, white as they were, as she bobbed her head along his thick cock. "Swan-Swan, love-oh, gods-Swan you need to-"

She hummed in acknowledgement, and it sent him over the edge; she swallowed it all, grimacing just a tad at the taste, and gently pulled off of him. His chest heaved. Few times though this had been, Emma loved seeing him so undone. "You were saying?"

"Up," he growled.

He swatted her bottom as he nudged her out the door and to the bedroom.

* * *

Gods, this woman was going to be the death of him.

His recovery time was the stuff of legends back in his world, but this was the land without magic, and he was a one-Swan man. And he'd promised her slow, aggravating as it might be and as much as he wanted to take her against the wall, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her again and again until they both collapsed from their pleasure.

Damn his mind.

He lay her out on the bed, her damp hair sticking to her skin. "Slow," he told her, and kissed her gently.

He worshipped her neck, bathed her collarbones, had her take his fingers into her mouth-the sensation much like the assault on his cock not long before-so he could roll and pleasure her breast between them while he lapped, nipped, and teased the other with his mouth.

She writhed beneath his ministrations, her little gasps and mewls composing the sweetest music he'd ever heard. She whined when he left her chest; he smirked, nosing her skin as his tongue dipped into her belly button, before he came to rest between her thighs.

Her breathing was shallow, tense and waiting for what he would do next. "Now you're going and undoing all of my hard word, love," he complained, kissing her creamy thigh.

Emma laughed. "I'm not the one out for taking me apart at the seams, buddy."

"Relax, Swan," he told her, nosing her curls.

"Easy for you to sayyyy-" she drew out the last syllable into a whine as he drew his tongue up her slit in a long lick.

Killian parted her with his fingers, tasting her sweetness; the way her legs clamped around him, her hands dragging through his hair, her moans filling the room told him she was climbing higher towards the peak. He lapped at the bundle of nerves that make her stifle her cries with her arm. "I want to hear you, Swan..." he murmured in a sing-song.

When his tongue entered her, her lusty cries echoed in his ears. Her hands left him to clench at the sheets, and he returned to licking her nub, his fingers entering her, coaxing that little spot just inside... She wailed, and her body thrashed against him. He fucked her through her orgasm until she stilled against him, drawing his fingers out and licking them in front of her. "You're delicious, love."

She brought his face to hers in a bruising kiss. He chuckled, and positioned himself at her entrance. She moaned into him as he slid into her warm heat. "You feel exquisite..." he murmured against her lips.

He began to move; he rested his forehead against her shoulder, bracing himself up on his good arm to give her a better angle. She sighed longingly as he lazily thrust in and out of her. "Killian..."

"Mmm?"

"I love you, and I love all of this, but honey if either of us is gonna come tonight, you gotta pick up the pace."

He laughed against her shoulder. "As the lady insists."

She inhaled sharply as his hips snapped into hers. Her nails dug into his back; he was going to have new scars by tomorrow. Her legs went around him, pulling him in further with each thrust. She was so warm, so tight...

Despite each coming before, the peak wasn't far off, and she whimpered her release against his chest. He sagged, pulling out cautiously, and collapsed next to her. "Fast enough for you, Swan?"

She sighed happily. "Perfect."


	6. Wake Up Call

Anonymous asked "cs smut- emma wakes killian in the most delicious way, bj and emma riding killian ;)"

* * *

He was always awake. She always supposed it was the military man, the captain, in him that was up until all hours making sure of the safety of his crew and then up again with the dawn to oversee them again. She's awakened to see him watching her more times than she can count, always with that look of tenderness that used to scare her to her very core—so intense, so sincere, so filled with _love_. And always, every morning without fail, he smiles in that way that makes her heart flip over, hugs her to him, kisses the top of her head, and whispers "Good morning".

So, predictably, when Emma woke up, a little jolt of panic shot through her chest to see Killian sleeping still. It wasn't until she'd rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart thrumming away for a good five minutes, feeling him rise and fall beneath her as he breathed, that she calmed down. She always feared some repercussion of having his heart removed and restored—despite her 'stern warning' to Gold about such things (she had no idea why Mary Margaret laughed when she called it a stern warning, it was. No one had actually been killed. Yet) Emma lay with her head on his chest for a while, the melody of his breathing and heartbeat almost enough to soothe her back to sleep.

And yet.

There had been one morning, several weeks ago, when he'd woken her with his face between her legs, his tongue slipping inside of her and out, up along her clit, and back in, waking her with a gasp and then a cry as her orgasm washed over her.

There was something to be said about starting your morning off with an orgasm.

Emma smiled wickedly to herself. She carefully slid down the bed, trying not to move the covers off of him; she didn't want him to wake up before it was necessary.

She lightly dragged her nails across his well-defined pelvic muscles; it wasn't fair, really, how good he looked. Well, scratch that. To everyone else it wasn't fair: these were hers. Her tongue flicked out, lapping at the ridges; above her, she heard Killian breath in sharply, moaning a little in his sleep. Emma smiled as his cock stiffened slightly. "Good morning..." she whispered, and grasped it gently.

`She ran her tongue up the thick vein on its underside. Killian shifted under her. She swirled her tongue around the head; a wordless mumble sounded above her. She drew him in slowly, very lightly drawing her teeth along his length before bobbing up and down, opening her throat and taking him in deep. He thrashed under her once, the unconscious moan louder, sounding like, " _Emma_..."

She tightened her lips, pulling just the tip in and out of her mouth, pumping the shaft with her fist. He jerked, crying out, and then his hand was in her hair, and she knew he was awake when he pulled hard; the sensation sent fire into her own loins, and she followed the pull of him up out from under the covers. "Bloody hell, woman..." he rasped.

She grinned. "Good morning."

Emma straddled him, not done with him quite yet; she positioned him at her entrance and sheathed him within her; she moaned at the feel of him, filling her completely. He choked out her name as she began to rock, thrusting her hips against his; his hand jumped from her bouncing breasts to rubbing her clit, her name ripping from his repeatedly like a prayer " _Emma, Emma, Emma_..."

"Close, I'm so close..."

"Snow me, love, I want to see you come for me."

" _Fuck_..."

Emma palmed her own breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers until he grabbed her arm and pulled her down over him, capturing one nipple between his lips and sucking _hard_ -Emma muffled a scream as she rocked her hips into his harder, his thrusts matching hers.

He let her go and pulled her to him, their lips crashing together as he shuddered against her, the kiss muting his moans as he came. Emma jerked against him, her own orgasm seconds behind.

She lay on top of him when they relaxed, still joined. He dragged his fingers through her hair lazily. She smiled, listening to his heartbeat slow to it's normal pace. "Not that I'm complaining, love, but what's the occasion?" Killian asked, his accent honeyed over with satiated lust.

"You were sleeping," Emma said simply.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath her, making her bounce. "Remind me to sleep in more often."


	7. Phone Sex

Anonymous requested: "Captain Swan phone sex? Pleeeaase?"

* * *

Emma's phone buzzed. She ignored it. She was busy, going over two weeks worth of patrol reports—hey, in a town as sleepy as Storybrooke, it wasn't like she needed to do it every day. And the sooner she could get those done, the sooner she could… get to the month's worth that she'd been putting off before that. Okay, things had been busy on the Fairy Tale Investigation Unit side of her life, she'd been letting regular sheriff duties slide, sue her. She was doing it now. No interruptions. Seriously.

The phone buzzed again. Her eyes slid to it, a tempting distraction from paperwork. No, this needed to get done. She neatened the stack of papers to prove to herself how serious she was about getting this done. Six weeks of backlogged paperwork was an embarrassment to everyone involved. Emma made her marks, a little firmer than necessary, and went to the next page. Another incident report about Grumpy overindulging at The Rabbit Hole again… they really needed to find something for the dwarves to do, if Grumpy was falling off the wagon…

Her phone buzzed a third time. Emma bit the inside of her cheek. Okay, one minute, see what was going on, and then back to paperwork. _Really_.

She flicked through to her messages. All three were from Killian—for a guy with one hand, he was adept at the whole texting thing.

Message one: _Are you still at the station?_

Message two: _Stupid question, you only ignore me when you are._

Message three: _Bloody hell, Swan, I am bored._

He had every right to be, she thought. There was an early winter cold running through town. The curses had done a lot for magically protecting the citizens of Storybrooke from most modern maladies, but Killian hadn't come over in any curse. Whale, Mary Margaret, and Emma had all ganged up on him: until he was up to speed on vaccinations, Killian would simply have to wait out any illnesses in quarantine. This meant a lot of time in his room at Granny's—Emma, who couldn't remember the last time she'd been sick, brought him stacks of books from the library to read and entertained him whenever she could. Ruby kept him fed too, something about werewolf genes meaning she couldn't get sick either. Between the two of them, they managed to keep him in reasonably well spirits… until the inevitable crash.

Which was now. Books read cover-to-cover, no pretty girls to tease, the pirate was going to start climbing the walls soon.

 ** _Still_** ** _working_** , Emma typed. _**I'm behind.**_

She set the phone down, and went back to reports. This was going to get done _today_. She marked off another page before he replied. Emma pursed her lips… and then grabbed her phone to look. _I'd like to get behind you._

Emma burst out laughing, thankful for the first time that she was the only one in the office today. David poking his head in and asking her what was so funny was _not_ something she felt like explaining. She typed out a reply, _**Oh, I'm sure you would.**_

She set it aside again. Paperwork! Done! Today! For real! However… she was sure she was going to get a novel in response, having gotten through two full days of reports before checking to make sure she hadn't missed a response, when the phone rang instead. "Swan. I'm sure you can appreciate that a man in my predicament cannot please himself and respond to you in a textual manner," he said in lieu of a greeting.

Emma chuckled. "What, Captain Hook is afraid to learn how to sext?"

"How to what?"

"Sex and texting mashed together. You send pictures… there's a whole thing."

His voice dropped an octave. "Send me what kind of pictures, Swan?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She asked, her own voice dropping.

"As a matter of fact, I would," he growled.

She smiled. Well, this was going to be infinitely more entertaining than backlogged paperwork. She twisted her hand in the direction of the outer door, locking it magically, and leaned back in her chair. "I could show you what color my bra is, or what kind of panties I'm wearing. Or I could show you what it looks like after I take those off."

His breathing hitched. "It seems I have severely misjudged these ridiculous talking devices…"

If he only knew. "So, how you doing over there?"

"You know bloody well how I'm doing, Swan," he said, and he sounded further away; he must have put her on speaker and set her on the bed.

"And how can I help with that?"

"We were just getting started a bit ago, love."

Emma hummed. "What, you getting behind me? I think that's getting a bit ahead of ourselves."

"Then, pray, tell me how we got there," Killian purred.

Well well. The captain had played this sort of game before. Perhaps people didn't change at all, Emma mused, just the means of communication did over the years. She worked a crick out of her neck; it had been a long time since she'd done anything remotely like this, she might be a bit rusty at it. "You aren't the only one who was bored today."

"Aren't I?"

"Nope. I've been stuck in my office all day. Just me. All alone. Nothing but papers all over my big desk… My really big desk…"

Killian panted, "And what of that big desk, love?"

"Nothing, just noting its size. Though I was very bored today, so my mind wandered..." Emma paused. She liked phone sex, but she found that it was awkward talking like this. "I thought about you coming over here. It's been quiet, so nothing really important is in our way... Dad's not here often... But, even if Dad did come in, I do have this really big desk."

Killian chuckled. "Oh, I like this, Swan."

"It's got plenty of room for someone, oh say... a pirate to fit under and remain unseen."

"There is one flaw, love, and that's the fact that were your father to come round the door, he'd definitely see your trousers round your ankles. And while I love to live dangerously, I'd rather not be strung up by my guts, thanks all the same."

Emma hummed again, causing him to growl at her to knock it off. "True. We'll have to figure that one out another time. Anyway, you're under my desk and I'm trying to work, and somehow you've got my pants off and your face buried in my snatch."

His breathing hitched again, and his laugh was breathy. She pictured him running a long lick up his palm before stroking himself, lightly grasping his length yet squeezing just enough to pop the head in the way she'd seen so many times but couldn't quite master. "You aren't _that_ distracting though, so I get through a lot of my work before you push my chair back to get out from under the desk and kiss me hard."

"You can taste yourself on my lips..." Killian breathed, and the jagged edge to it told her he'd started jerking faster.

"I can, because I'm all over your face. And then you pull me up and tell me that I've been a very bad girl and that I need to be punished," she teased.

He grunted. There were many things about modern sex that Killian enjoyed very much-some of Emma's roleplaying fantasies weren't always on that list. She chuckled. "Sorry."

"Carry on, Swan."

"This is the part where you get behind me, because you've bent me over the desk."

"Arse or cunt?" He panted.

Emma almost pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief. "You are not fucking me in the ass without lube, buster."

He grunted again; she'd have to save that talk for later, when he was paying attention. "Right, well... I'm bent over the desk, and you're going to town _not in my ass_ , and then I'm begging you for more; you rip open my shirt and my bra with your hook, and your hand is on my boob and it feels really great, but I need more. I'm _begging_ you for more, Killian, please, I _need_ -"

"My hook on you," he could barely speak. She imagined the look on his face, screwed up in concentration and pleasure.

"Yes," Emma breathed, getting into it finally. "You let me take it and rub it against my clit, more friction, the cold metal feeling so good against my hot skin, all that heat from _you_ , what _you_ did to me..."

"Emma..."

"I'm bracing myself on one elbow now, bending further so you hit that spot that makes my toes curl, you feel so good inside me-"

"Emma, love-"

"-and then I'm screaming your name-"

" _Emma!_ " He cried, and she smiled.

His breathing slowed from gulping gasps to normal, and then she heard grumbling about needing a cloth to clean himself. She heard a bit of banging around, and then he sounded much closer, "Sorry, love. Clean-up."

"It's okay. Feeling better?"

"Satiated," he told her, "for now. And what of you?"

Emma shifted in her chair; she felt warm, a little tingly, and definitely turned on. She liked watching him get himself off, but listening to his gasps and moans and inserting her own visuals was a whole other ball game. "I'm okay. I might need a little return on my investment, though."

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her, the smile she heard in his voice promised her an afternoon of fun.

"Let me finish a little more of this, and I'll be over," she promised.

He agreed, and she set her phone aside. Looking over the papers again, Emma sighed heavily. She gave up after one more report: concentrating on work was impossible when the man waiting for her could eat a woman out for hours and not even break a sweat.


	8. ModelPhotographer AU

**Anonymous requested: "so uhh... can I get a smutty/smuffy twister (like the game) fic ;)"**

* * *

Emma plunked the box down on the table. Killian glanced over at it. "What fresh hell is this, Swan?"

She smiled sweetly. _This_ was her keystone. Oh, she'd tried other ways. Obscenely short skirts. Lingerie. Strutting around the apartment in nothing but one of his shirts and her tallest stilettos. But _nothing_ seemed to shake the coolly observant photographer. "This," she said triumphantly, "is strip Twister."

Their entire relationship seemed to be built on quiet and loving sex. Emma had no problems with quiet and loving sex—Killian seemed to be the first man who ever thought she was deserving of a little wining, dining, and wooing before bedding her, and she fully enjoyed and loved him for it—but the occasion arose where she wanted more. One night. Just _one night_ to unleash the pent-up sexual beast inside of him and she'd be happy. She knew it was there: the way he watched her sometimes, the way his jaw worked, or his hands balling into fists for a moment, but always a gentleman he remained. His control over himself was like iron, and she was determined to make that control rust.

She'd worn revealing outfits around the apartment, in public, used every ounce of her sexual charm… and he was still ever as careful and cautious with her as he'd been from the start. She doubted that photographing models for ten years had _completely_ burned the fires of lust out of him—after all, they wouldn't be dating if they hadn't met on a shoot a few years ago and he hadn't asked her out as soon as the contract was over—but even after moving in and living together for more than a year, he still remained cautious around her. Sexually, that is—normally, neither of them had a problem taking the other to the wall in a fight (who knew make-up sex could be sweet?) and often.

Killian arched an eyebrow at her from over his laptop. Emma slid in next to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You work too much," she told him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"And Vogue wants this batch done by Friday, _a ghrá_."

They'd been dating for almost four years and he'd called her every pet name in the book, but it warmed her to the core every time he spoke to her in his native Irish. "Which is two whole days away," she pointed out, stroking his cheek. "This is just an hour of simple fun; get that tension out of your shoulders."

She mentally crossed her fingers at the lie—she _hoped_ it was going to be a lie. His mouth tightened for a moment. She toyed idly with the hair at the base of his neck. Killian reached over and closed his laptop. "Alright then, Swan. We'll play your game."

Emma grinned and bounced up off the couch. She asked him to move the coffee table over so she could spread the mat on the floor, and set up the spinner. "Alright, Irish," she began, "you choose a color, and then if the spinner lands on your color, you have to take something off."

"Fair enough," Killian said, joining her.

"One other rule," Emma said. He quirked his eyebrow at her again in a question. She hoped her grin wasn't as devilish as it felt. "No touching outside of gameplay."

His jaw clenched briefly, replaced by. "Ladies first."

"Red," she said.

"Blue," he grinned.

It was a long-running joke, how alike they were but how completely opposite at the same time: even their favorite colors. Emma spun and landed on right foot green. Killian had left hand blue. He gave her a look as he shrugged out of his button-down, revealing the black undershirt still tucked into his belted pants. Emma bit her lip to keep from swooning at the sight: years of hauling his own camera equipment had toned his biceps and filled out his shoulders into artful curves. Even after so many years together, she still drooled at such a perfect set of arms. The package was sealed when he had to bend over for his turn, his butt perfectly shaped by his tailored pants. "Enjoying the view, Swan?" Killian asked.

He knew her so well. "Might be," she said, spinning.

Right hand yellow. Right foot blue. Killian got up a bit to work his belt off. " _A mhuirnín_ , you rigged me."

"How?" Emma asked as he bent down again. "I'm using the same spinner."

"I don't know how, but I'll figure it out."

Their faces were close; Emma leaned over and pecked him on the mouth with a quick kiss, flashing a grin before she spun. He eyed her. "The objective is not to fall over, correct?"

"Yeah, but kisses don't make you fall over," she said as the spinner landed left foot red.

Killian breathed out slowly, a muttered Irish curse on his tongue as she stood and stripped off her sweater. She switched yellow dots to more comfortably slide her left leg under his body for a red dot. He huffed, and reached across her for the spinner. "Doing okay?" Emma asked.

"Fine."

Right hand green. He leaned further over her body, their hands now neighbors. She spun a left hand green, and settled comfortably into her awkward split. His breath tickled the skin on her stomach as he spun again, left hand yellow, and he arched her perfectly now. Emma spun, and had to briefly get up to remove her jeans before settling into her full-body spread over the greens and reds, having turned over and her lace-covered ass sticking up in the air under him for all and her boyfriend to ogle.

She turned slightly and saw his jaw clenching, heard another bit of Irish, and then his left foot finally joined the game.

It was awkward grace, the way they slipped around each other, arms sliding under legs, legs tangling, more clothing lost—Emma was down to just her lacy panties by the time Killian stripped off his undershirt. He'd grown redder and sweatier in the last ten minutes; she was sure she was in no better shape, but it was definitely hotter to watch him get more flustered when her almost-nude body passed close to him, her breasts heaving close to his scruffy jaw when he forgot himself. "Swan," he panted, "do we lose if we fall, or if we lose all of our clothing?"

"Fall. Definitely falling," she said, and spun again.

"Of course…" he mumbled, and she had to untangle herself to remove her panties.

She took great pride in the heavy exhale he emitted. He spun again, and frowned deeply as he attempted to figure out how to position his right foot crossing both himself and her. She thought for a moment that he'd make it, until he wobbled and then she was crushed under his weight on the floor. She burst out laughing, and he scrambled to pick himself up, "Oh, love, I'm so sorry—"

"Killian!" She pulled him back down to her. "It's okay. I'm fine, I won't break."

He searched her face. She thumbed his chin, and gripped it lightly. "I'm _fine_."

"I don't want to hurt you."

Emma released him to stroke his cheek again. He was good to her, good _for_ her, when so many in the past had used her and left her. The modeling world was small, word traveled fast. He'd known bits of her story before they'd met, as she'd known his—both had scars and stories of agents and partners best left untold. It had taken a while for them to lower their walls past the initial attraction, but they'd done wonders for each other; wounds were healed, new foundations laid. He treated her well, respected her, standing by her side as an equal instead of in front of her or like she was arm candy for an event. She held immense pride in him and his work; he teased her when she bragged about him, the model boasting about the photographer. Emma cupped his cheek. "I know. And I love you for that. But Killian, I swear to God if you do not play rough tonight we aren't having sex for a month."

He blinked several times. " _A ghrá_ , you have much higher expectations for your lust to remain satiated than I do."

She blew a raspberry. "Oh please. I can totally hold out."

He hummed in disbelief, and rolled suddenly, flipping her to lie on top of him. "How long have you wanted this?"

"A while now."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

She flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. "I've been sending out signals for weeks, Killian. The lingerie, the skirts, the heels, the—"

He put a finger to her lips. "And why didn't you _say_ anything?"

Her mouth set in a stubborn line. "Don't laugh. I kind of really wanted you to just take me in a manly fashion."

Killian stuttered for a moment under her, and she prepared herself to scold him for laughing, and then he said, in a sort of strangled tone, "Swan, you quote some soppy love story at me and we _really_ won't have sex for a month, because I'll be too busy laughing to try and have at it. But," he put a finger to her lips to stop her protest, "I shall take heed of your desires, and should it ever again strike your fancy to strut about in one of my shirts and those shoes of yours again, please feel free to."

She struggled not to smile, but one broke out anyway. "Did you really fall, or did you fall on purpose because I was spread-eagle and naked underneath you?"

He leaned up and captured her lips in a kiss. She melted against him, heat pooling in her belly as his hand slid down her side to cup her bare flank. He rested his forehead against hers when they broke. "A gentleman never reveals all of his secrets, _a mhuirnín._ "

She sat up, grinding her bare hips across his underwear-clad goin. He grimaced, throwing his head back. Emma stood, and offered a hand to him. "Come on, Irish, there's a bed that needs newly christened."

They clasped hands and she hauled him up; then she was swept off her feet, thrown over his shoulder. "Killian!"

"Emma!" He mimicked her American accent in a falsetto, laughing, and carried her off to their bedroom.

She was unceremoniously tossed onto the mattress. He stripped himself of his last remaining piece of clothing, and joined her, crawling over her body to kiss her lips. She sighed with happiness when he went immediately to her breast, his scruff scraping her skin red, his mouth hot on her skin, his teeth firm but gently tugging her nipples to attention. He sucked at her skin until she was covered in red spots. He went to the apex of her thighs, but she grabbed at his hair, "No. Just—as I am. Take me now, please," she begged.

He raised an eyebrow, but she nodded enthusiastically as he came up to her. Butterflies flew in her stomach, but she wanted him _now_. No prep, just primal _need_. She kissed him hard, and pushed him away, rolling over onto her stomach. "Take me hard and fast."

She didn't raise herself up. He took her by the hips, edging her up just a bit so he could enter her. She bit her lip, groaning deep in her throat, her hands fisting the quilt as he stretched her; her body was now used to thorough pampering before the main event, but this was rawer. It hurt in a good way, and his thick cock pressed her insides in a way that her clit had pressure from both his cock and the mattress under her. He draped his body over her, and began to move, his tongue tracing patterns over her back. Emma moaned and gasped as her body readjusted to this way of fucking. One of his hands snaked under her to play with her breast.

His cock pressed her clit against her skin, pressured against the mattress in a delicious way she'd almost forgotten. "Faster… harder, please…" she whimpered, and he chuckled against her skin, picking up the pace.

Their hips slammed together. "Pull my hair," she gasped; he wound his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck, tugged, and pleasure-pain ripped through her scalp.

"Mark me," she groaned as she felt the coil of heat wind deep inside her. "Tell me I'm yours, I'm claimed."

"Mine," he growled. Heat—how was there any coolness left in her?—flushed through her at the darkness in his tone. His teeth grazed the skin of her shoulder. "You're _mine_ , Emma. No one else fucks you like I do, _a mhuirnín._ No one else ever could, could they? You're made for me: your sopping cunny just for me, from what I do to you. No one else can ever taste you, know your body, the feel of your tits bouncing as I fuck you, the sweet pleasures I can pillage from you. You are _mine_ , your pleasure is _mine_ , your tight little arse in those panties and heels is a sight for _me_ alone."

Then he bit down hard as the coil released and she cried out her pleasure as her orgasm washed over her. He rode her through it, and stilled as he came, his seed spilling inside her. He licked at the teeth marks he'd left on her, goosebumps rippling down her body as she drifted down from her high. She whimpered as he pulled out and went to get a washcloth.

Killian cleaned her up, and then came back to bed. She rolled over into his embrace, sighing happily. "Better, love?" He asked.

She grinned, and kissed his nose. "It's a start."

* * *

 _I don't recommend going at it without foreplay, fyi._

 _A ghra = love_

 _A mhuirnin = darling_


	9. Strip PokerBody Shots

**Two anon prompts combined:**

 **1\. Emma introduces Killian to strip poker**

 **2\. Body shots, with the condition of moving to another surface in their new apartment with Killian still inside her**

* * *

"I don't see why we're playing a ruddy card game when dice are so much simpler."

She readjusted her seat and dealt their cards. "Because this is more fun."

Emma owned a set of dice that likely weren't what he had in mind, but would likely earn his stamp of approval in short order. Those were for another night. Tonight, she thought while reaching back for the shot glasses and the plate of lemons, was for getting drunk, literally beating the pants off her boyfriend, and seeing where the night took them. The last few weeks alone were enough of a reason for sloppy-drunk makeouts, not that one needed reasons, but celebrating a new apartment was a good enough _real_ reason. Even if there was no furniture. "Okay, so five card draw, fours and nines are wild. Twos give you an extra. If you run out of chips, you can bet a piece of clothing for ten more. Ten chips can also buy something back. If someone wins three rounds in a row, they have to do a shot off of the loser," she said, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of tequila, thunking it on the floor next to them.

Killian grinned wolfishly. "It's bad form for a man to take advantage of a woman under the influence, Swan," he told her.

She smiled. "Your faith in my ability to win is sweet, but I also know how to lose on purpose."

"Bit of a card sharp, are you?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, wondering where he'd picked that up. Killian took three cards from where they'd fixed them to his false hand and laid them on the floor. "We have words where I come from too, love. Three, please."

"Begging already?" She teased, dealing him in, and taking her turn.

"You wish. Three-of-a-kind."

"Straight," Emma laid out her cards. "Lose the waistcoat."

They'd agreed on five articles of clothing each. Emma restacked her chips, shuffled, and dealt again. In good faith, when she won again two turns later, she decided to take advantage of her shirtless-and-sockless pirate reclining carelessly on the floor and break open the bottle of tequila. She poured herself a generous amount. "I trust you know how this one goes," Emma told him.

"I've participated a time or two," he grinned, and she stuck a lemon between his teeth.

His eyes watered a bit and there were garbled curses coming from behind the wedge, but Emma ignored him and dragged her tongue up his collarbone to the joint of his neck and shoulder. She tossed some salt down, and toasted him briefly before licking up the salt, tossing the shot back, and capturing the lemon between her teeth, the sourness easing the burn of liquor.

Killian's breaths came short and heady as her tongue worked its way up his skin; he hissed at the sourness of the lemon when her lips hit his, masking the smoky taste of the tequila. He pulled away briefly to spit the lemon out, and muffled her "Hey!" with another kiss. She pulled back after another moment, grinning. "Still gotta kick your ass."

He got better as they continued; after he lost his pants—the captain was a boxer-briefs man—Killian bought back his shirt, which he'd nonchalantly left unbuttoned, and she purposely lost the third hand that allowed him to finally take a shot of his own. "I do quite like the set, darling," he nodded to her matching black lace panties and bra—a girl never came unprepared to a tequila fight, after all.

"Thought you might," Emma said as he poured himself a shot.

He put a lemon wedge between her teeth, and gave her another wicked grin before licking up her thigh. Her breath hitched, then came the salt. She watched him slowly, _slowly,_ (seriously, how slowly could one lick salt?), retrace his path; their eyes met for a moment and heat jolted through her belly. He kissed her lace-covered mound, threw the shot back like a pro, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, and captured her mouth with his. She moaned when he sucked the juice from the lemon, her lips caught in the crossfire. "Not bad," he murmured when they parted.

She tossed the pulped lemon back onto the plate, and dealt again. She grinned when she picked up her two new cards. "Royal flush," she said, laying her cards out.

"With two wild cards," Killian protested.

"Still counts. Now, this calls for something special. You're losing the briefs, _and_ you have to do another shot."

He snorted. "It bloody well does not. No rules were ever stated that you get to dictate anything, particularly in the event of one of the rarest hands in cards."

"Because I'm making this up as I go. Underwear, shot."

Killian glowered at her, and stood, twisting his way out of his boxer-briefs. Emma watched with interest as they were discarded. He knelt, pouring himself another shot as she grabbed another lemon, before bowing over her breast and swirling a circle over the mound peeking over the cup. He salted her, and lapped it up again, sucking hard on her flesh before downing the tequila and crushing her lips to his. There was only the barest hint of sucking before he bit into the lemon, ripped it from her teeth and spat it out, coming back to her hard.

Emma squeaked, falling back onto her elbows. "Mmm… Killian," she murmured between kisses. "Game…"

"Don't care…" He murmured against her lips, the force of his kisses pushing her back almost to the floor.

"Was… winning…"

"Fuck the game," he growled.

She leaned back, laying fully on the floor, a wicked glint in her eye. "I'd rather fuck you."

That was all it took, and he was working her panties off and she was shoving his shirt down his arms. His head dipped down to her breasts again, roughly biting at her through the lace, taking one nipple between his lips and sucking hard, then the other. Emma mewled, arching, pushing herself further into him. His fingers slid between her wet folds, parting them enough to slide his thick cock into her. "So wet for me already, Emma," he rasped, ecstasy in his expression.

" _Fuck_ , Killian..."

"I intend to, darling."

He eased in and out slowly, teasing her. She whined. "I'm not drunk enough to put up with this shit, Killian, faster or get the fuck out of the way and let me do it myself."

"That's easily fixed."

She grit her teeth when he stopped. Bracing himself on his elbow, he dragged the liquor and the garnishes over. He poured her a generous shot. "You know what to do," Killian told her, handing her the salt before putting a lemon between his teeth.

She got up on her elbows, licked the crook of his neck, salted it, and reached back to bring up the glass. He hissed, almost dropping the lemon on her when she lapped at his neck, hips involuntarily thrusting into her as she teased his one sensitive spot; she downed the tequila, sucked the lemon, and spat it out, pulling him down to meet her on the floor.

Killian thrust into her at an almost lazy pace, fingers threaded in hair, lips tasting skin, nerves singing at touches. Emma's blood was up as the liquor made her warmer. "Counter," she mumbled against him.

"What?"

"Kitchen. Fuck me on the counter."

He pitched to the side, rolling her on top of him. "Hold tight, love," was the only warning before she realized he was getting up; she wrapped her arms and legs around him tight. She moaned into his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen, each step thrusting himself into her further. He rested her against the cold surface; she leaned back, spreading her legs wider, opening herself to him.

His hands, real and fake, grasped her hips; _finally_ , he picked up the pace. Emma threw her head back, the feel of him slamming against her making her toes curl. "Let me hear you," he grunted when she held in a whine.

" _Yes_! God, _fuck_!"

"Name's-Killian," he managed, and she tried to fix it in her mind to swat at him later but then her world went hot and white as her orgasm overtook her and her knuckles cracked from gripping the counter too tightly.

He rode her through it, his face buried in her chest until he too came, her name on his lips repeatedly like a prayer. His shoulders heaved in tandem with her chest as they fought for breath..

Killian pulled out of her with some regret. "Ah, blast it..."

She grabbed the paper towels, cleaning herself up the best she could. He leaned on the counter next to her, his own head thrown back. They glanced at each other, and started laughing. "We still have half a bottle of tequila," she told him.

"Aye. And what plans have you for it?"

"We also have a brand new bed to break in."

The glint in his blue eyes matched the one she felt in her hazel ones. "You're on, Swan."


	10. Christening the Jolly

**Anonymous requested: "cs smut- after emma returns the jolly roger to killian, he takes her out for the weekend and takes her at the mast, helm, on deck, over his desk, etc... Very smutty please!"**

* * *

She's always amazed he can manage a ship the size of the Jolly on his own.

Emma leans on the rail, watching Storybrooke grow smaller and smaller as they head out to sea. She's nervous about leaving ( _"Two days, love. The whole bloody town can't get into that much trouble in two days."_ ) (she really, really hopes he's right), but turning now and watching her pirate stalk the quarterdeck is quietly thrilling. She hadn't had the opportunity to appreciate the sight the last time she had been aboard, and takes great pleasure in making up for it now.

Actually, she finds watching him pulling and tying ropes, turning the helm, and other nautical acts much more appealing in his modern clothes. The pirate gear is a turn-on, sure, but the modern button-down lends itself to being rolled at the cuffs several times, and showing off the way his forearms flex with every task. And she wouldn't be able to see his shirt bunching and straining at the shoulder seams if he'd been wearing that leather duster. Or the way his waistcoat lifts to reveal his tucked-in shirt—because _of course_ he tucks his button-downs in, _of course_ someone taught him the proper way to dress to drive a woman insane. "Are you going to buy, milady, or merely content with lusting after my wares?"

God, she's practically drooling, no wonder he called her on it.

"I didn't know you were into role-playing," she calls over the wind.

He looks at her quizzically, and she laughs, climbing the stairs to join him. "A game, you pretend to be someone else. Sometimes it makes it more fun."

"Ah, a player's game. Because a princess being kidnapped by a pirate isn't thrilling enough," Killian says, a glint in his eye.

She gives him a once-over. "Here I thought I was coming along quietly."

He moves behind her, turning her; Emma grabs the helm for support as he pulls their hips together. _Jesus_ , he knows all the shortcuts to getting her turned on now. His lips are on her neck, under her ear, and he breathes, "Now, princess, the point of this weekend excursion is most definitely _not_ to come quietly."

Her knees go weak as he leisurely assaults her neck with kisses, whimpering when he nipped her, in absolutely no hurry at all to finish what he was starting. Asshole.

She pushed against him, grinding his harness against her ass. "Impatient, are we, princess?" he murmurs against her skin.

"Someone's… taking his sweet-ass time…" Emma says, hissing as his hand moves up to up her breast.

Suddenly he's gone, and her back is cold from the wind again. She's white-knuckling the helm, tracking his movements with wide-eyes. He has the audacity to smirk at her. "I'm a patient man, love."

Damn him.

* * *

When they finally drop anchor, she's fairly sure they're technically in Canada. But he activates the invisibility enchantment ("She keeps all magic that's done to her.") and all thoughts of border patrol fly away as he stalks back to her. He captures her mouth with his, cupping her face in his hands. "Killian…" she murmurs between kisses that leave her dizzy. "Killian, wait…"

He leaves her mouth free, kissing along her jawline, her ears, her neck, even her damn _hair_. "Not helping," Emma says breathlessly.

He pauses. "Quickly, Swan," he tells her softly.

"Patience," she teases, eliciting a low sound from him that may have been a growl. "Just a thought… from earlier, the pirate-princess thing…"

Their eyes meet, and his face darkens when the lightbulb of understanding goes on. "Emma, are you sure?"

She's had more than one fantasy about this—the taste of the captain during their trip to the past has fueled more than one session with the showerhead—and she nods. He rests his forehead against hers. She swallows hard. She wants this, she really does. "Just this once, okay?"

"Very well then." He takes a step back, and in a breath his entire demeanor changes. Heat zips through her entire body as she watches his stance, his posture, shit even the way he _looks_ at her, shift and all of it transforms _her_ pirate into _the_ pirate. "On your knees for the captain, _princess_."

Oh this is interesting. She adopts her role almost too easily—maybe it's something you're born with after all. "A princess kneels for no one, captain, but a king."

Killian—no, _Hook_ —smirks at her. "And what is a captain but king of his own domain? As I said, milady. On. Your. Knees."

Their eyes lock as she does so slowly, and he circles her, his boots thumping the deck hard. He passes his hand through her hair, pulling it ever so slightly. "What shall I do with you?" Hook muses. "A ransom, of course, but even the Princess of Misthaven should know that the captain takes the very best loot for himself…"

"My father will pay handsomely for my return, captain. Whatever you wish, it's yours."

They break eye contact for the briefest of moments—Emma's about to break a rib from trying not to laugh because David would sooner run him through if it came to that, and Killian knows it—before he steps in front of her again, bending before her to bring their faces level. "Whatever I wish, is it?"

"Yes," she breathes.

"And if I have a list of demands?"

"Every attempt will be made to meet them to your _satisfaction_ , captain."

She hears the metal of his buckle clink, and fights the urge to squirm in anticipation. He straightens, and begins to circle her again, a shark monitoring something it finds particularly interesting. "And what if the king is unable to, or rather _unwilling_ to, part with what I demand?"

She tempers her own lust and says with some annoyance, "Captain, perhaps if we spoke plainly—"

"I have a very short list, milady," he interrupts her, completing his circle. "My demands begin and end with your lovely self, but the details. Now, the details are the interesting bit. How do you answer my ransom?"

Their eyes lock again, and Emma smirks. "You should know, captain, that a princess is willing and capable of making _every_ sacrifice to protect her kingdom."

Hook grins, sending shivers down her spine, and he frees himself from his jeans. "I don't believe we'll need to go quite that far, your highness. We'll start here."

She takes him into her mouth, her eyes never leaving his even as he closes them; his breathing comes hard as her tongue swirls around the tip and she takes him deep, dragging her teeth lightly along his length as she pulls back. His hips buck forward, and her lips tighten around him. His hand buries itself in her hair, and she bites a little harder as a warning, but he seems to be attempting to steady himself.

She reaches for his hips, but finds herself being pulled up by his hook, releasing him with a pop, and his lips are on hers, kissing her fiercely. The hook makes quick work of her shirt and bra—so _that's_ why he'd told her not to wear or bring any nice clothes—and he's pushing her back against the mast, tossing the shredded garments aside. The rope digs into her skin but she finds herself not caring so much when his tongue is on her breast, the cool air making it almost painfully hard when he switches to favor the other.

Emma whines when Hook leaves sloppy kisses down her stomach, pausing at her jeans for a moment to almost rip them open and forcing them down to her ankles. Then his tongue parts her, delves between her folds, and Emma finds herself gripping the ropes to stay upright. "Killian…" she repeats his name again and again like a prayer, and only the pressure of his hook against her ankle quiets her.

"That's quite forward of you, princess," Hook murmurs into her curls.

 _Fuck_. She can't remember her own name, let alone any stupid roleplaying game she was dumb enough to suggest in the first place, and _Jesus wept_ he wasn't going to do anything until she apologized, was he? _Fuck._ "M-my apologies… _captain_ …"

Shit, she's never going to hear the end of it, stumbling over her words like that, and the stupid, evil grin on his face before he resumes his awful, _wonderful_ torture on her seals it.

And just as she's about to come, that bubble of heat and light inside her ready to burst, he stops.

She's going to throw him overboard and leave him for the sharks. Or whatever they had in Canada.

Instead, she finds herself being swept up into his arms and carried down the stairs and into the captain's quarters. It's warmer here, and she almost sighs in relief before letting out a little yelp at being unceremoniously dropped onto the bed. "It's no feather bed, your highness, but it'll do for now."

"Are you stealing me a feather bed then, captain?" Emma asks.

His eyes darken, and another thrill shoots through her. "That depends, milady, entirely upon how long you'll remain on board."

Killian's just tossed a football into a basketball game, and it appears he realizes there's a slight panic bubbling up inside of her because Hook is back as his clothing is discarded, his easy swagger returning as his head tilted this way and that with each piece removed. "Besides," he says, carefully removing her clothing as well, "I can't have my crew mutiny over my quarters having finer bedding than theirs. You understand the need to keep those in your care happy, princess."

The mattress is definitely hard, a time before box springs were invented, but then he's climbing on top of her and she doesn't care so much. "Of course," she murmurs as he lowers himself, his weight settling on her slowly—and don't think she hasn't added "watch Killian do pushups" to her list of things to do.

Killian's lips capture hers sweetly, lulling her into security from her panic. She pushes back, signaling that she was okay to go, and Hook is back, his mouth rough and his stubble scraping her cheeks and neck and chest raw. He thrusts inside her in the next minute, and she clings to him as his hips snap into hers with precision.

His cock hits her sweet spot, making her whimper against him. It's his turn to pray to her, her name spilling from his lips between encouragements and curses—"Fall for me, darling" and "Gods, you're warm" and "Seven hells, I can't last much longer, you're too much for me".

And she does fall, crying his name to the ceiling, waves of warmth washing over her. All the candles in his quarters flame to life as he rides her out, pulling away from her to spill his seed on her stomach—and she's really going to have to find a non-embarrassing way to ask Regina how to control her magic during sex, because this is getting out of hand.

He doesn't notice for a moment, bracing himself on his forearms as he catches his breath, a grin playing on the edges of his lips as he comes down from his high. Killian notices finally when she looks away to glare at the lantern on the desk. "Interesting outcome today," he comments.

Emma grunts in annoyance, and he kisses her cheek. Killian gets up and grabs a cleaning rag to mop her up. She wriggles under his blankets while he cleans himself, and hardly moves over when he comes to join her—it's a small bed, and she won't admit aloud that she likes to cuddle, but he knows her and they tangle their limbs together.

Killian presses gentle kisses to her forehead as her heart finally stops racing. "Was that satisfactory, captain?" she asks slyly after a while.

He chuckles. "It'll do for now, love."

Emma snorts. "'It'll do', my ass."

He tilts her chin up to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "Such language, your highness. Have you a suggestion for improvement, then?"

She smirks, and pushes him onto his back. Killian grins as she straddles him. "Practice," she says, and slides him into her again.


	11. Itchy

**Anonymous wanted "they leave the celebrations of no new villains party early to have some fun".**

* * *

There was a reason Emma didn't care to use her magic.

Barely six hours since her last victory—another notch in her already full belt, the villain subdued and shut away in the magical cage Regina had crafted—and the magic still burned through Emma's veins.

She _itched_ with need. Something, _anything_ to settle the sparks flowing through her, the pool of heat spreading between her legs, the ache in her chest. But the dark beers she drank and the stories she laughed at were just like putting Band-aids on an amputation—a nice thought, but if she didn't get a real fix soon she'd be in trouble.

She already knew the perfect solution—the problem was getting herself and the pirate out of the celebration without anyone noticing. The other problem was that being the Savior meant her sudden absences were often noted at her own parties.

He knew it too. He knew there was a reason she kept her distance. The eyes he made at her from over his beer stein did nothing to still the magic under her skin: the way his gaze lingered on the crook of her neck and the tip of his tongue traced his lower lip, the way he grinned—tongue stuck between his teeth—when she glared at him to knock it off, or the way his eyes traveled down her body while he idly traced circles on the rim of his glass.

Emma considered sending a message with her fingers too, but her brother was here and she didn't need him mimicking her.

So she fidgeted and squirmed her way through an hour of congratulations and play-by-plays of the last fight—she'd lived through it, did she really need to rehash it? She pretended not to notice that every time she glanced back at him the desperate need for relief grew, that she'd squeeze her legs together a little tighter in a pale imitation of what she craved. And what of it if she brushed her hand down her chest a few times, claiming she was brushing off crumbs but really she was trying to make the itching ache in her breasts go away? Each glance back proved he needed this too, his watchful stare getting darker each time.

At last she could take it no more, and made her way to the end of the bar where Killian sat. She placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them gently, reveling in the little moan that escaped him as she pressed herself against his back. She bent close enough that her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "We need to get out of here."

His laugh, dark and rich, warmed her further. "Thought you'd never ask, love."

Ruby winked at them as they left out the back.

* * *

Emma's lips were on his the second the front door closed behind them. They stumbled around each other as boots and coats were shed, desperate for contact. She stumbled back and he caught her before she bruised herself on the stairs. His lips brushed against hers as he balanced himself over her. "I'll fuck you on the stairs, is that what you need?" He rasped

She whimpered as he roughly kissed her jawline, down her neck, his stubble roughing her smooth skin. "Carpet burn," she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He chuckled, and straightened enough for her to get up and hurry up the stairs.

In the bedroom, she almost ripped her shirt off. Killian caught her by the wrist, spinning her into him and kissing her again. Her fingers made quick work of his shirt buttons. He couldn't even raise his hand to help her before she pulled him back and they toppled onto the bed—she wheezed a bit as he landed on top of her, but when he tried to pull away and apologize, Emma rolled them over.

She unbuttoned her jeans, shoving them down her legs and kicking them away, and freed him from his jeans. He can tell from her actions how much she needs this, how frantic the magic has made her. She sank onto him with a moan, her nails digging into his chest.

By the gods, she's wondrous, warm and welcoming. She rocked against him, biting her lip as he hit deep. He reached up and caressed her breast over her bra, cupping the side and rubbing small circles around her nipple. "You're beautiful," he told her tightly as she rolled her hips into his.

Emma whined, and Killian chuckled. "Alright, love, pillow talk later."

His hand and hook rested on her hips, pulling her further onto him. Emma let her head fall back with a happy sigh as he focused on thrusting his cock into her harder. He could tell from the erratic breathing and bouncing that she's close to coming, nearing that peak-

His thumb brushed over her clit and that's all it took for her to sink her nails into his chest, gasping and snapping her hips against his. He groaned with the feel of her coming around him, squeezing him and tempting him to follow. As her pleasure faded, she folded into herself, huddling against his chest as he chuckled-still hard inside her-and she caught her breath.

Another moment passed, and he could tell from the heat of her skin that this wasn't close to being over. "Killian," she warned.

"Aye, Swan, just for you," he told her, anything for her and he held her tight against him as he shifted them.

Emma wrapped her legs around his waist as he reached under her and unhooked her bra. His mouth found her breasts with lazy licks and gentle sucking, the pace of his thrusts into her matching. She carded her fingers through his hair, tugging harder with each pass. "Emma, love," he murmured against her skin, "if you keep doing that I won't have any hair left."

"Maybe if someone wasn't driving me insane I wouldn't have to pull his hair out," she replied, earning her another laugh.

But it worked, his pace increasing as she wrapped herself around him fully. The little whimpers and puffs of air in his ear fueled him further, her little whispered encouragements-"Faster, _please_ " and " _Fuck_ , you feel so good"-causing him to angle her to hit the spot that made her toes curl.

When she unraveled around him again, her legs twitching, her heels digging into his arse, he _almost_ followed... but tonight was about her, quelling the impatient itch of her magical fires. Killian was more than happy to be at her beck and call when the magic caused her so much want.

She huffed into his ear, trying to catch her breath as he propped himself up on his elbows, still buried in her warmth to the hilt. He grinned. "Better?"

She hesitated, her eyes closed. She shifted slightly under him before she gave an exaggerated false sob. "No."

He kissed her. Her kiss, fueled with desire, only made him want her more. "Is it such a trial to be loved by me?"

Emma opened her eyes, and smiled wryly. "No. I just... don't like being at the mercy of my hormones like this."

Killian snapped his hips against hers and she sucked in a breath. He grinned again; he'd never tire of the look of her after she came, her hair mussed and skin tinged pink. "Love, you may not like it, but rest assured that your discomfort is a cross I am willing to bear."

She shoved at him, and he thrust into her hard again in retaliation. Emma laughed. "Just shut up and fuck me, Jones."

 _That_ he could do, and in the end she came three more times before her magic finally settled.


	12. Valentine's Bath

**The original ask got deleted but the general gist of this one was Emma had a long and stressful day at work and then there was bath sex.**

 **Set sometime in the future, canon-verse.**

* * *

So maybe Valentine's Day _wasn't_ the worst.

 _There really are some advantages_ , she thought, biting her lip to keep in the moan trying to escape, _to dating uncompromising, stubborn bastards._

As if he sensed her thoughts, or perhaps because he knew she kept her sighs inside, the frequency of sloppy nips and kisses on either side of her neck, shoulders, ears increased. She arched, her mouth opening wordlessly as her head fell back on his shoulder. The water sloshed against the high sides of the tub; the cooling water splashed onto her chest, her nipples painfully tight from the combined sensations. He slid another finger inside of her and-

Emma squeaked.

Killian laughed against her skin. Gooseflesh rippled down her arms. "I win," he murmured, his scruff scraping deliciously against her cheek as he nipped her jaw.

"No, you don't-ahh," Emma sighed as his thumb brushed against her clit. Now he was just playing dirty. "Nothing about squeaking was mentioned, just-nngh-"

.

 _Valentine's Day or not, a sheriff's duty always came first. And Valentine's Day or not, everyone and their mother had complains that needed seeing to. (Except Emma's mother, but she suspected that Mary Margaret had enough going on-what with two young children and running a small town-without finding a complaint that she wasn't able to handle herself)_

 _One very vexing ten-hour shift later, Emma found herself being lured from the front door to a waiting bath upstairs. Killian slowly removed her clothes, his mouth hardly leaving hers, his hand grasping and kneading and massaging wherever it could. She was breathless against him, the anxious tension in her muscles slowly being replaced with warm and fizzy tension. "My work's cut out for me, Swan," he murmured against the hollow of her throat._

 _"Howso?" she asked hazily._

 _"Normally you're quite... vocal."_

 _She hummed a laugh. "Bet you can't make me."_

 _He bit her collarbone a bit harder than necessary. "I'll win that bet, darling."_

.

"Shit," Emma muttered.

"What do I win, Swan?" Killian asked, pausing his oral ministrations, resting his chin on her shoulder. The innocent look he gave her contrasted with the way his fingers curled inside her, his thumb sliding in smooth circles, warm waves of pleasure half-distracting her from his question.

Her breathing unsteady, she glared at him sidelong. He only batted his eyelashes at her. Emma grunted in annoyance, and turned around, the sounds of sloshing water filling the room. Ever the gentleman, Killian's hand never left its place inside her until she moved to replace it with his cock. He grinned up at her as she loomed over him, bracing herself on his shoulders as she slowly sank onto him. "Ah," Killian quipped when she sighed happily, "my favorite prize."

Emma rocked against him, moaning deep in her throat, relishing the feeling of being so full.

.

 _It used to scare her-feeling whole with one person, feeling like she fit so_ _ **easily**_ _with one person. It shouldn't have been so easy, so_ _ **natural**_ _, but it_ _ **was**_ _. Time and patience helped her, until she wasn't just_ _ **letting**_ _him into her bed, she was_ _ **instigating**_ _it. Almost every flat surface of their house had been christened, and most of it at her insistence._

 _Killian may have been the handsy one in public-his hand at her back, brushing her hair away, on her arm, clasping her hand in his, always lingering in her personal space-but when they were alone, Emma returned the favor tenfold._

.

Now, he sucked greedily on her breasts as she bounced on his cock, his hand palming her ass, steadying her. The bathroom echoed water splashes, moans, sighs, murmured encouragements, until Emma squeezed her eyes tight, crying out as her orgasm rocked through her. Killian shifted her a few more times, his breathing erratic, before his breaths came heavily and he sucked almost painfully hard on her breasts, and then he finally quieted.

He released her nipple with a slight popping noise and Emma winced. "Hickey," she said, sliding off him.

Killian grinned sheepishly. "Apologies, love."

She shrugged, and slipped down in the water, nestling up to him. "It happens."

He tilted her chin up and kissed her deeply. "I love you," he told her softly when they parted, their foreheads resting together.

.

 _That used to scare her too, but he'd proved again and again that he meant every letter, every syllable, every possible meaning of the words 'I' and 'Love' and 'You'._

 _And she meant it too._

.

"I love you too," she said, and she butted her head against his gently, unable to help the grin that grew across her lips.


	13. Channel Chasers

**For in-spirational, who asked for "emma purchases some new lingerie and decides to drive killian crazy with it. (lots of teasing and cursing)"**

* * *

Exiting the bathroom in need of assistance with his tie, Killian stopped short and found himself in desperate need of a drink. "Y-You're not wearing that, are you, love?"

Emma threw a coy look over her shoulder, pausing in her bend to pick up the dress she'd picked out for that evening. The effect was instantaneous, drawing his eye down her body, garters and those spikes for shoes she so loved and all. "Why, is there a problem?"

Oh there bloody well was a problem. He was used to this world's version of undergarments, for the most part. But the frustrating thing of it was how someone, at some point in time, had decided to make women's breast bands and loincloths so gods-be-damned _revealing_. And more frustrating was that, while Emma looked ravishing in anything and nothing at all, she had the ensnaring charm of a siren in all of them. This one was sinful, black lace shaped around her in what she might otherwise call a 'bathing suit', but she'd never (at least, he thought with a jealous twinge, she'd better not) wear something in public with the neckline plunging that deeply, or with her arse on full display, peeking out tantalizingly from under the lace. Her black hose were held up by garters, and her heels could probably kill a man-which, come to think of it, would probably be as enticing a sight to watch as the one currently before him.

He keened a little, involuntarily, when the dress went over the garment; it was a nice dress, if you liked your women to wear clothing, in her favorite red and clinging in all the right places, and under normal situations he would appreciate her figure in it. However, with his cock straining against his slacks, he wanted nothing more than to tear it off of her-quite literally, if need be-pin her to the bed, and fuck her senseless.

Emma gave him the coy look again, and bent in front of the mirror to adjust her hair. That done, she sauntered to where he stood-and he was well aware that he'd been standing shell-shocked in the same spot for almost five minutes, slack-jawed like the git that he was-and did up his tie for him, tucking it into his waistcoat and smoothing it down, her fingers lingering on his chest. She had to feel his heart racing under her touch. The self-satisfied smirk told him she did. "Behave yourself tonight," she told him, her voice sultry. "This is payback for last time."

She left the room, taking his breath with him. It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about.

 _A delicate throat-clearing brought his attention out of his book. The first thing he noticed was a confection of pink and ruffles and lace. "A bloody cupcake?" He asked._

 _The words, and the following laughter, slipped out before he could stop them, as the rest of his brain took in the lacy pink panties, the sheer pink curtains falling from the lacy pink bra, realizing too late that his barefoot goddess was attempting to seduce him. She'd stormed off before he could stop her._

He couldn't remember what the party was for, why they were all dressed up. A betrothal? A wedding? Another baby? There were a lot of drinks in his hand over the course of the night, and Killian vowed to keep his mind clear for what was in store later, but _seven hells_ watching her socialize, prancing around the room in that little dress, those heels, smiling and flipping her hair, knowing what she looked like under the seemingly innocent dress... He swallowed another mouthful of whisky, watching her laugh at something the doctor said. Her wanton eyes caught his when she touched Whale's arm. His blood roared, and he slammed the tumbler on the bar after downing the rest of it.

She met him in the middle. "I think it's time to go," Emma said, the innocence of the statement broken up by the knowing way her lips curled upwards.

"Too right," he said tightly.

Farewells were quick, and the walk to their apartment even quicker. He unzipped her dress as they went up the stairs, her heels clicking against the tiles fast and he taking them two at a time. The door was barely shut behind them before he pinned her against it, his mouth on hers, her hands clawing at his back, one leg already hooked around his waist. " _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," she whimpered when his mouth moved roughly down her neck, bear scraping red streaks down her skin.

"I bloody well intend to, you witch. Take this damned thing off."

Her dress fell to a heap on the floor around her feet. He paused for a moment to loosen the tie around his neck, and then he went right back to lavishing her breasts over the lace, enjoying her squirming and the way her hands fisted in his hair. "Fuck. Jesus _fuck_ , Killian, just- _shit_ , I need-"

Her hands fumbled at his belt, undoing his slacks enough to free his cock from its confined space. He cut the fabric covering her mound with his hook, and thrust his fingers inside her sopping heat. "Dammit, Jones, if you don't-"

The gods smiled on Killian Jones the day they invented the spiked shoes, because he didn't even need to lift her to angle himself in. He took her right against the door, one heel digging into his own arse. She keened, clinging to him. "Come on, love, come for me, show me your pretty face when I drive my cock into you."

She kissed him roughly, breaking only when he shifted, trying to hit that spot that made her fall to pieces. "That's a girl, let me hear you. Right here, me fucking you at the door, anyone could hear you, what I do to you, and you love that, don't you? You _want_ everyone to know what I do to you, want _everyone_ to know that you are _mine_ , that I only give this to _you._ "

Emma cried out, and trembled against him, her walls convulsing around him as he followed her into ecstasy moments later.

Their chests heaved, gasping for air. He untangled himself from her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She slipped out of her shoes, and stumbled over to the couch, collapsing onto it. "Worth every look Ruby's going to give me tomorrow," she said, her laugh breathy.

Killian managed to make it to the chair, his lower back on fire. "Whale? Of all the people, love..."

"Sorry," she apologized, sincerely. "I thought he might set you off the fastest..."

"Bloody right he does," he muttered darkly.

She sat up, and reached over, taking his hand in hers. "Hey. I won't do it again, alright?"

He nodded. After a moment, he turned his hand to clasp hers. "The rest of it, though... that was grand."

"You're a sucker for punishment, aren't you?" She asked dryly.

"Depends on who's doing the punishing, love," he taunted.

She leaned over the arm of the couch, their faces close. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing together. "If you don't get me out of this teddy, and I might punish you again," she murmured.

"Maybe I won't," he breathed.

She laughed, and he got up, whisking her off the couch and into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot.


	14. The Mirror

**in-spirational asked for "cs smut - involving a chair and mirror ;) very smutty please!"**

* * *

 _This is why we waited_ , Emma thought with breathless glee. She thought she'd be spent by now with two orgasms under her belt, but Killian was relentless and _fuck_ she loved every second of it.

Only this time, just as her belly clenched with desire, Killian started to slow. Emma whined, fisting her hands in the blankets on his bunk. "Please," she begged. God, _why_ was he slowing down? "Please, Killian, I'm so close, make me come. _Please_."

He chuckled darkly, lips brushing against the dip in her back. He trailed kisses up her spine as his thumb kneaded small circles into her hip. "All in good time."

Then he stopped completely and Emma wanted to scream. She buried her face deep into the pillow, whining louder – he only chuckled again. _Bastard._ She ached for release, her walls fluttering around him as he shifted – just enough movement to tease, not enough to give her what she craved.

He pulled her onto her side, laying them both down and curling himself around her from behind. His cock still fully sheathed inside her, he pressed more kisses along her shoulder and neck, humming as he did so. Emma shifted a little, hoping the movement would inspire him to continue the almost brutal pace he'd set earlier. "What a needy lass you are," Killian murmured in her ear. "Patience, my love."

"I wouldn't be this needy if you'd just _fuck_ me," Emma ground out, her voice catching as his hand grazed her nipple. He hummed, thrusting up against her once. Emma gasped as electricity flooded her veins. "Again."

He paid her no mind, resuming his worship on her shoulder. She ground her teeth together in frustration. She'd threaten to withhold sex from him for this if she wasn't already sure they'd never be able to go another day without having each other. Emma slumped back into his embrace. She did enjoy this, really: laying here in his arms, as close together as they could possibly be. She loved the way he treated her so gently, almost reverently.

She just really, _really_ wanted to come again.

Killian sucked lightly on her neck, his teeth grazing across her skin ever so slightly. Emma sighed in content, tilting her head more to give him better access. "Now, love, how would you like me to make you come? Mouth or cock?" he murmured against her skin.

"Cock," she breathed as he gently thrust up into her again. "Need to feel you."

"Good. We're going to sit in that chair," he said, brushing his nose against her cheek to indicate she look at his desk. "And then we're going to face that mirror." There's a full-length mirror in the corner, positioned just right to be visible from the desk. Emma didn't remember seeing it before and wondered when he'd bought it. "And then," Killian continued, punctuating by nibbling on her earlobe, "you're going to watch me fuck you."

He chuckled when she clenched around his cock, his words sending desire rocketing through her again. Emma bit back a whimper when he pulled out of her. He helped her up, moved the chair into place, and sat down. Emma reached back, gripping his cock lightly as she moved to sit on his lap. She guided the tip back into her aching sex and sighed with relief when she took him in fully. "Watch," Killian ordered.

Emma lifted her gaze to the mirror, her breathing growing more erratic as he began to thrust up into her. And wasn't that a sight to see, his cock disappearing into her. "Touch yourself," he said, his own voice growing more ragged. Emma saw the wildness in his eyes as he watched her hands smooth up her body to cup her bouncing breasts.

He groaned deep in his throat as she played with her nipples. His bad arm wrapped around her waist, helping lift and push her onto his cock while his hand slipped between her legs. Emma watched his fingers circle and slide against her clit, warmth and starlight filling her body. Her eyes closed as she threw her head back at the feeling. "Eyes _open_ , Swan," Killian ordered harshly, his voice breaking. "Watch me fuck you. See the way you take all of me in. Fuck, Emma, you're _so_ good." She tried to keep her eyes open as much as she could as he licked a long line up the side of her neck. He leaned his forehead against her, just under her ear, lips brushing the back of her neck. "You feel _so_ good, sweetheart, so wet and tight."

He whispered more encouragements and endearments, dirty secrets and desires for her. Keeping her eyes open remained a challenge as she felt her orgasm building. "Almost there, almost," she whispered desperately.

"Fall, darling, I've got you."

His hips snapped up and his cock hit the right place inside of her. Emma screamed her release as the light of a thousand suns exploded under her skin. Her sex rippled around him and triggered his release. Killian groaned into her shoulder as her convulsions faded, leaving her limp in his arms. He kissed her shoulder softly. "Gods, you're beautiful," he told her softly.

She turned her head and captured his lips with her own. She wanted to say something funny, some off-hand comment about making her wait to feel this used and loved, but she's suffering from sex-brain. She could barely stand to clean up and move back to the bed.

His bunk was small but that didn't matter. She simply wrapped him around her and buried her face in his chest hair. She was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the Jolly in the water, the scent of Killian, and feeling of his fingers gently combing through her hair and the gentle caress of his lips on her head.


	15. Dark Horse Side Story

**Anonymous asked: "cs- killian loves emma's skirts and heels, so after she comes back from work he fucks her against several nearby surfaces. (smut)"**

 **I set this during chapter 13 of "Dark Horse", describing Emma's outfit at one point to match this prompt. It was a non-smutty chapter that hinted at it, so this fills in the blank.**

* * *

"I said leave the shoes _on_ , Swan," Killian growls in her ear, the warm puff of air sending shivers down her spine.

Emma stops trying to kick off her Steve Maddens, surrendering to the desperate, hungry kiss. He pins her against the door, his hands sliding down her hips and hooking under her thighs. She clings to him, squeaking in surprise when he lifts her legs up to wrap around his waist. He pulls away from her mouth roughly, lips and teeth on her ears, her neck, her collarbones. "I dreamed of you, you vixen," he whispers against her skin before drawing a line up the column of her throat with his tongue. "Miles away from me and _still_ I desired you. Then you arrive at the track in these cursed _shoes_ and this _skirt_. All day I've wanted you, thought about how I'd take you if given the chance."

"Sorry," Emma breathes, wanting more – _needing_ more. God, how could he set her off so fast? They'd only slept together once, how the _hell_ did he know how to get her this hot under the collar already?

He rolls his hips into hers more firmly and she bites back a moan. "I'm not," Killian tells her before covering her mouth with his again.

His lips moved hungrily over hers, his body pressing hard against hers to keep her up on the wall. Emma shamelessly grinds her center against the thick length of his arousal, desperate for release despite the few layers of clothing between them. His hands slide up her thighs as his lips move down her neck, gripping her skirt and pulling it up above her hips. She gets the picture quickly, reaching between them to fumble with his belt and fly. "Back pocket," he growls against the hollow of her throat.

She slides her hand down his ass, squeezing it hard and making him thrust against her hard before doing as he says, drawing out a condom. "Someone's a Boy Scout," she teases, holding it up between two fingers.

"Always prepared," he agrees, surging up and catching her lips with his again.

His kisses leave her dizzy with desire, fiery and demanding. Emma fumbles with the condom as his grip shifts on her; one hand cups her ass, holding her up, while the other shoves her damp underwear to the side. She wants to cry with relief when his fingers slip inside her, his thumb swiping against her clit mercilessly. "Killian," she whimpers. "Killian, let me get the -"

"You're going to come all over my fingers," he whispers fiercely and the words go straight to her clit, making her thrust against his hand with need. "You're going to come, and then I'm going to take you and fuck you all over the damn house."

 _Jesus_ , and she thought fucking against the door was risky enough. She can hardly string two thoughts together with the way his fingers are working her, but she manages to open her eyes and meet his squarely. "Prove it," she challenges breathlessly.

Killian's grin is sinful. "There's my Swan."

He slips a third finger inside of her, stretching her further as his thumb presses into her clit. Emma's gasping when she comes, feeling like her veins are filled with starlight as she squeezes his fingers. All the while, he licks at the sensitive spot under her ear.

He gives her a moment to catch her breath before letting her legs slide unsteadily to the floor. She grins, giggling at her clumsiness, and finally rolls the condom over his thick cock.

In a flash, he has her up on the counter, practically ripping her panties off of her and dropping his pants to the floor. She wraps her legs around him eagerly as he slides home. "Dig those heels in, Swan," Killian says, his voice strained. She can feel him shaking a she waits for her to adjust to him. "Don't be afraid to really, y'know, get into it."

She laughs, head thrown back, and catches the odd look on his face. "What?" Emma asks, a few giggles slipping out.

"You're a beautiful lass," is all he says before he starts to move.

His pace definitely doesn't match his tender words and she appreciates it, unsure of how she'd handle so much tenderness at once. Instead she clings to him as he drives his cock into her slippery heat. He hisses when she does dig the heels of her Steve Maddens into his ass, but he repays her when he yanks down her shirt and bra and relentlessly sucks at her nipples, switching just often enough to keep her from getting too sore.

She comes again with a shout, but he's not finished with her yet. Killian steps out of the pants pooled around his ankles and lifts her, still sheathed inside her rippling walls, carrying her into the living room. Emma's vaguely aware of the cats fleeing as he topples them onto the couch, her landing on him. "Ride me, Swan," he tells her. "Let me see you come over me."

She raises an incredulous eyebrow but he just grins at her in that stupid, cocky way she loves. _Challenge accepted, buster_ , she thinks, deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt and spreading her hands across his bare chest as she starts to rock her hips into his. Dark hair covers his delicious muscles, and there's a trail of it disappearing to where they're joined together. She wants to run her tongue along the V in his hips, watch him gasp and twitch before taking his cock in her mouth, but that'll have to wait for later.

For now, she feels another orgasm already building - _seriously, how does he do it?_ \- and needs to fuck him until they're both seeing stars.

She lifts up and _slams_ her hips into his, enjoying the way his eyes widen in pleasure, his breath catching in his throat. He must see something on her face because he smirks and lifts his hips to meet her thrusts. Emma lets her head fall back in ecstasy, the thick drag of him against her walls making her toes curl.

One of his hands comes up to cup her breast, his calloused thumb circling her nipple. She hisses, and his other hand moves to where they're joined, his fingers surrounding her clit and sending heat through her. "You keep that up and I'm not gonna last much longer," she says through gritted teeth.

"That's the point, love."

"Not when I want you to come with me."

He quirks an eyebrow up, but nods. "As the lady wishes."

Emma leans forward and traces his collarbones with her tongue, the pace of their thrusts increasing as they chase their release together. "Come on, Killian," she whispers fiercely, biting his neck.

He grunts. "So tight... _fuck_ ," he hisses, fingers slipping against her clit.

Emma's close, seconds away from falling over that edge again, and kisses him deeply. His breathing quickens, and then his thrusts are erratic and she knows she's got him. His orgasm triggers hers as he hits that spot deep inside her and she muffles her scream against his shoulder.

She doesn't know how long they lay like that, still tangled in each other, breathing returning to normal. It's nice, she decides. She could get used to it.

Then her stomach growls and Killian chuckles under her. "I did promise you dinner, didn't I?" he asks, kissing her cheek.

She catches his lips with hers again before they get up. She definitely could get used to this.


End file.
